Echoes in the Plains
by The Sneaky Fox
Summary: Raising children is hardly an easy feat, and is no exception for Tali and Shepard—especially when the Commander is called off on an important mission that puts old friends in danger and the Alliance on the brink of war. Rated M for all that it entails.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Welcome all! This story is an almost direct continuation of my earlier story, The Storm, and starts about two-three weeks after it. Now, I don't think you'll be in too rough shape if you haven't read the previous story, but there will be some mentions of past character that may confuse you.

If you do decide to read The Storm first, please bear with me, as it is rougher than my current works. I also suggest reading my other story, The Silence After, which really builds upon Tali + Shep's relationship, and is continued here.

Really what I'm asking is for you to just read everything I wrote. But you don't have to listen to me, obviously.

Also, some lemons. Probably shouldn't post them in the first chapter, but whatever.

* * *

**Chapter 1: Peace**

"It isn't funny." he said gloomily, sighing.

"Yes, it is." Tali insisted, trying—and failing—not to giggle. She eyed him for a moment as he lay there in bed, face dark.

She rolled, moving to straddle him, the better to look him in the eye. "It happens to every man at some point."

His azure eyes flicked to her, expression lightening a little. "'Every man'? That sounds like the voice of experience talking. Is there something you're not telling me?"

She gave him a look, fingers tracing circles on his broad chest. "I did extensive research on humans when we started... you know. Apparently it's quite common among human men."

"It is not." he said defensively, stony expression returning.

"I also read that there were pills that you could take—"

"It isn't going to happen again."

She shifted forward, bringing her body low to lie atop him, almost nose to nose with Shepard now. "It's okay if it does."

"No it isn't." he said, cheeks heating.

She brought a hand up, brushing across the stubble that covered his jaw, hearing it rasp faintly. "And why not?"

"Why?" he asked, raising an incredulous brow. "Because I have a beautiful naked woman lying on top of me and I can't do a damn thing about it."

She buried her face in his chest, snorting.

"Stop laughing."

Her shoulders shook as she began to laugh harder, belly aching with the attempt to stem her mirth.

He lay there in gloomy silence, waiting for her to stop. When she was finally able to semi-control her laughter, she looked back up at him. "Keelah, John, relax. Why don't we have some breakfast?"

"No. We're not going anywhere until this happens." he ordered, rolling so that he now lay atop her.

She giggled. "Well then I guess we'll be here all day."

He crushed his mouth to hers, arms encircling her and cutting off that damn laughter. A hand came up to cradle his face, the other running along his chest. She felt a hand come up to squeeze her breast and he shifted his leg to part hers. She felt something stiffening against her leg and broke off the kiss, raising a brow at him.

"Well wasn't that quick?"

He grinned. "All day, my ass. I might _make_ you stay here all day for you laughing at me."

She smiled saucily at him. "And what kind of a punishment would that be?"

He pressed his lips hard against hers once more in answer, and she decided that talking could wait.

* * *

He sipped at his coffee, staring out of the kitchen window.

After a long session of carnal activities and teaching his wife the dangers of laughing at a man's pride, they'd gone downstairs to have breakfast.

They'd fixed the hallway from his fight with the Cerberus assassin, and now that that was done, some of their earlier discussions began to pool in his mind.

_"How do you feel about having children?"_

It was a question he suspected both of them had been thinking a lot about of late, and he wondered when a good time to ask her would be. The last couple of weeks he'd been scanning their home, looking for anything that would need to be modified or removed to accommodate a fragile baby.

Mentally, he supposed he was ready—his mother had informed him that a great deal of fear was natural, and that if he was calm about the prospect he should probably seek pharmaceutical help.

He and Tali would be responsible for a life. That was hardly a new burden for him, but the lives he'd taken care of before were adult ones, capable of making decisions and more or less able to handle themselves.

Not a baby, though. An infant would be completely and totally dependent on the both of them, and if they fucked it up, gruesome consequences would be felt. Ones that were too awful to dwell on.

But he was also preparing himself to be rid of his freedom. To not be able to stay in bed with his wife all day or host a gathering with his old crew. He and Tali had spent a good five years living on Rannoch, getting to know one another even more and building a life for themselves. He decided maybe that their life could do with a little more non-violent excitement. Though he figured taking care of a kid was much more difficult than being a soldier.

"John."

He turned from his view of the ocean to see Tali looking at him, gaze serious.

"About the conversation we had a few weeks back. On the Normandy, I mean." she fidgeted, looking nervous, but didn't look away. "You asked me if I wanted a child."

He grinned. His suspicions had been correct. "I was just thinking about that, actually."

She smiled, looking hopeful. "Does that mean you haven't changed your mind?"

He laughed softly. "No. No, I... I still want a child."

Her face lit up, eyes shining. "You're sure?"

"Yes." he said, smiling at her expression.

She bounced softly on her toes, as was her custom when excited. "There's an adoption centre in the city, but I think getting some supplies first would be a good idea."

He laughed, walking over to her and pulling her close. "We should get started, then."

She drew closer, wrapping her arms around him and pressing her face into his throat. "We're going to be parents."

"I know."

* * *

They arrived at the adoption centre a few days later, their home now armed with the supplies needed to take care of a child.

They walked slowly through the halls of the building, which gave off a warm, inviting glow. There were children as old as fourteen and fifteen there, and ones as young as a few weeks. Tali had said she wanted a baby, and Shepard agreed; it would be easiest to acclimate an infant to a new environment, and the prospect of raising a child right from birth was an exciting one, which was as close to natural birth as either of them could get.

And so now in the infant ward of the adoption centre, they passed cradles and cradles of children. Some crying, some sleeping, and some simply staring off into space.

Shepard was walking past a few of these cradles when something stopped him. He looked down at the child he had halted at, who was looking up at him in wonder.

Her face—He knew it was a girl even before looking at the tiny screen at the foot of the cradle containing such information—looked vaguely familiar. An absurd notion, as infants virtually had no facial bone structure of any kind, nor had he met many quarian infants in his time living on Rannoch.

Yet she seemed familiar. Something pulled at the corner of his mind, a nagging memory that would flit away whenever he tried to look at it directly.

He extended his hand slowly, watching the child's eyes widen at the new object invading its world. A tiny, three-fingered hand reached up to grasp his index finger with surprising strength, making him smile.

"It's nice to meet you, too." he said quietly.

The child's eyes drifted up to his face, curious at the noise he had made. He smiled, and the tiny girl smiled back, gums pink and wet under the soft lighting. She let out an amused screech, feet kicking under the blanket. He laughed at the response he had evoked from her, making her giggle harder.

He felt a hand on his back and heard Tali's voice float over to him. "Introducing yourself, hm?"

The child's laughter stopped abruptly at the sight of a new visiter, eyes again widening into shiny orbs.

Tali smiled at the girl, making the giggling begin again. Her eyes flicked over to her husband, who seemed completely entranced with the small child pulling on his fingers. She was certain that nothing could tear him away from this tiny person, and finding another baby would be out of the question.

She quietly marvelled at Shepard's ability to make friends with people. Whether it was a blood-thirsty krogan or a drooling infant, he drew people in, and they seldom escaped. Not that anyone ever wanted to by the time they got to know him.

A nurse walked over to them, smiling. "I assume you two have picked out a child?"

Tali laughed, looking over at John, who was still playing with the baby. "Looks like the other way around, but yes."

The nurse nodded. "Let's just get you to fill out some paperwork, then."

* * *

Tali drove, as Shepard had refused to give up the now-sleeping infant in his arms.

His unwillingness to let go of the child was adorable. She had seen many sides of him before, but never as a father. She was delighted at the thought of getting to know another facet of the man, even after all the years they'd known each other.

"What should we name her?"

She was jerked from her musings by John's voice. He was staring down at the child through the small plastic bubble encasing it, protecting her from the elements until they took her to her new home.

Tali's brows drew together, glancing at the infant as she steered the aircar. Quarian names drifted through her mind, though none really seemed to match the tiny face she looked at.

"I'm not sure." she said quietly, her gaze once again drifting over to the child. She was sleeping soundly in Shepard's arms, mouth forming a tiny 'O' and breathing softly. She was the picture of peace.

"Sarika." she said suddenly, and Shepard looked up at her.

"Sarika?" he said, as if testing the foreign name on his lips. "Why that?"

She smiled. "It comes from the Khelish word _Sahr'yika_, which means..." she struggled to come up with a good word. "Well, it doesn't translate all that well. I suppose you could say peace, but it also has a spiritual connotation. It means 'one with the elements.' It was used among our people as someone who was a very organic person, who knew the best places to find food and shelter." she smiled at him. "It was a person who brought happiness and a calm mind to a clan, for those people helped everyone survive the next season."

John smiled back down at the child in his arms. "Sarika it is, then."

* * *

So, bam. I took a couple liberties with quarian culture, which is always fun to do. However, it won't get more in-depth than that, as I don't want to run the risk of ruining the culture with my own interpretations.

Hope you all enjoyed this, and any feedback is, of course, greatly appreciated.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Man, was it ever fun making Shep a dad. As a result, it's mostly his POV this chapter. Also, the time-frame of this chapter might jump a bit, so I hope you don't get confused.

* * *

**Chapter 2: Dog-Tired**

Tali awoke from a deep sleep to hear high-pitched wailing from across the room. Her eyes flicked frantically around the blackness of the bedroom before realising what had awoken her once more.

She shoved her husband. "S'your turn."

He grunted, moving away from her prodding hand. She pushed at him again. "John."

Shepard sighed, and she saw his dark form rise itself from the mattress, his hand scrubbing at gritty eyes. "This freaking thing doesn't stop eating." he muttered, making her laugh tiredly.

He stood up from the bed, stretching sleepy bones. He walked over to the crib, murmuring softly to Sarika as he picked her up.

"Come on kid. Let's get you something to eat."

He padded out into the hallway with her, surprised again at how heavy she was. Only a few months old and she already weighed that of a bowling ball. He could probably start bench-pressing the kid in another month or so.

He walked down the stairs and into the kitchen, rocking gently as he tried to calm her crying until he got the formula for her.

He felt an involuntary shudder run through him as he stood on the cold tile, reminded once again of how little he was wearing, clad only in boxer shorts. He was also struggling to focus on what he was doing, his mind fogged with exhaustion. Three months of waking up a dozen times a night to feed a child had left both he and Tali dog-tired. More than once had he found himself nodding off at the dinner table.

After grabbing the ingredients and bottle, mixing everything together and nuking it until it was the appropriate temperature, he handed the bottle over to her, watching her immediately go quiet and shove the small nipple into her mouth.

"You're a hell of a lot nicer when you're quiet." he commented, walking back towards the stairs. Already he could see her eyes drooping, as she appeared to have inhaled half the contents of the bottle in a matter of moments.

Up the stairs and into their bedroom, he waited until she'd finished—which was a total of five seconds—and put her back in her crib, her features already relaxed in slumber before her head had even touched the mattress.

"Wish I had your life." he muttered, crawling back into the comfort of a warm bed. Tali was similarly passed out, and in moments he joined the both of them in dreams.

* * *

Sarika was named after a person who brought peace to a family or clan. He was starting to think they named her wrong.

He watched Tali sway back in forth in the living room, trying to calm the wailing baby. Neither of them could figure out what was wrong, and he could begin to see the glint of panic in his wife's eyes.

It had been three hours since this Hell had begun, and nothing they had tried worked. Feeding, checking her diaper, and patting her back had left them empty handed except for bloodied eardrums. It wasn't teething, either; she had grown in her primary teeth already, with only the occasional extra tooth causing her distress. He remembered back to that dark age and wondered how they survived _that_ hell.

He shared the same fears Tali did, wondering what they were doing wrong; the extranet had been grossly un-informative on the subject of screeching quarian infants. Luckily, Raan was on her way and would hopefully know what was the matter with Sarika.

Her crying reached a new pitch in volume, and Shepard decided that demonic possession was likely the cause of her distress.

"Can you hold her?" Tali asked, voice wavering. He could see she was on the verge of tears, and he nodded, walking over and plucking the burden from her grasp. Frustration, exhaustion, and fear were a dangerous mixture indeed, and the explosive cocktail was almost palpable in the air.

A knock on the door, followed by Raan letting herself in, was heard from down the hall.

"Hello?"

A pointless question, really, as Sarika could likely be heard from the city, but he wouldn't say shit to this wonderful angel of a woman if he had a mouthful. Her opportune arrival was one that made him think God wasn't quite so deaf as he'd originally believed during his military career.

Shala'Raan appeared in the living room, eyes going straight to the baby.

"Can I see the child?" she asked, and Shepard gladly handed her over to the woman.

"What's the matter, _chu'lias?_" she crooned to the screeching child in Khelish, Shepard picking out the word "darling" from it, his limited knowledge of quarian dialect flexing in his brain.

Raan began to rock, patting the child on the back while she murmured some more.

"What's wrong with her?" Tali asked, sitting down on the couch.

"I do not know yet." her aunt replied, pulling Sarika away from her shoulder to look at the child once more. "Likely just an upset tummy, hm?"

As if on cue, spit-up rolled down the baby's chin and onto her pyjamas, which promptly stopped the crying. The silence was blissfully deafening.

Shepard flopped onto the chair next to Tali, sighing. "I can't thank you enough, Raan."

"Keelah, we could have done that! I'm so sorry for calling you—"

"It isn't a problem, Tali." Raan said, smiling kindly. "I'll be back in a minute. I just have to clean this little one up."

She disappeared into the kitchen, and Tali put her head in her hands. "I'm a terrible mother. I can't even figure out what's wrong with my own baby! And it was so simple! If I can't even do that—"

"Tali, I didn't know either. And you're not a terrible mother. We're both just over-worked, is all." he reached out to touch her, but she swatted his hand away.

"I know that! I've gotten maybe three hours sleep in the last four days!" she snapped at him. A moment later her face softened and she leaned back against the cushions. "I'm sorr—"

He chuckled, cutting off her apology. "Don't be."

If she heard his response she gave no notice, and he watched her features relax as she began to fall asleep. He felt as tired as she looked.

Raan came back a moment later, Sarika now bright-eyed and clean, and the woman smiled at an unconscious Tali.

"You should have called sooner. You two look dead tired."

"We are." he said, giving her an exhausted smile.

"I'll take care of her for tonight. You two get some rest."

He nodded, leaning back into the chair. He was too tired to protest, let alone get up and go to the bedroom. His eyes closed and his muscles stretched out, his brain floating off into oblivion a moment later.

* * *

The warm rays of Tikkun shone on his face, making him blink and squint. He was confused for a moment as to where he was, when he suddenly realised that he was in a chair in the living room.

His gaze drifted lazily over to the window, watching the clouds float past Rannoch's sun. His eyes widened when he realised that Tikkun had already past its zenith.

_Jesus, how long did I sleep?_

He pulled up his omni-tool and his eyes widened further at the time. It was well after lunchtime, getting into late afternoon. He'd slept for a good nineteen hours.

He looked over at Tali, who was still sleeping on the couch, now curled up and hugging a pillow to her chest, a sight that made him smile.

Shepard heard baby noises from the kitchen, and heaved himself up from the cushioned chair, stretching. His knuckles brushed the ceiling and he sighed at how good he felt. And how hungry, he thought, feeling his stomach rumble.

He walked into the kitchen to see Raan sitting at the counter with Sarika, who seemed to be eating crackers. She spotted him in the doorway and her eyes widened.

"Ah!" she said loudly, hands flying up in the air and throwing cracker crumbs everywhere.

He laughed. "Good morning. Or should I say afternoon?" he looked over at Raan, smile widening.

"Thank you, Raan. Truly. I think we'd have gone insane without you."

She smiled back. "As I said, not a problem, Shepard. It usually takes more than two people to raise a child, anyway." she looked back at Sarika, who was once again absorbed with her crackers, drooling over her fingers as she sucked on the tiny pieces of bread.

"You can go, if you like. I'm sure we can handle it from here." he said, noticing the circles under eyes. She had obviously not slept well last night. "Or you could crash in one of the upstairs bedrooms, as well."

She cocked her head, looking confused. "Crash?"

"I mean sleep. Have a nap. It might not be good for you to drive tired."

She nodded, getting up from her seat. "I think I'll make use of one of the bedrooms. Goodnight, Commander."

He nodded back, smiling. "Pleasant dreams."

He watched her head down the hallway and turn up the stairs, and he looked back at Sarika. She had crumbs all over her cheeks and down her clothes, and her hands were covered with bits of wet cracker.

"I think you need a clean-up." he said, walking over to the sink and getting a washcloth.

She looked at him inquisitively as he approached with the small towel, gently wiping at her face. She made sounds of protest as he mopped up her mouth and hands, then wiped away the crumbs on her shirt.

"Well, that's about as clean as you're going to get." he said, tossing the washcloth in the sink. He wandered over to the fridge, grabbing her some juice before finding food for himself.

He was too hungry to waste time building an elaborate meal, so he opted for a simple sandwich, piling what he needed on the counter. He also got out food for Tali; he assumed that she'd be hungry, and she'd likely be waking up soon, anyway.

Assembling his sandwich, he watched Sarika gnaw on the mouth of her juice cup, new teeth surprisingly sharp. Tali had told him that quarian children grow teeth very quickly, but it was a horribly painful process; they needed whatever defences they could get as soon as possible, as the quarians had lived in the open plains of Rannoch for millennia, where dangers lurked day and night.

She was a generally sweet baby, crying only when something was wrong. The only problem was that she'd been going through one ordeal after the next. Trapped gas, teething, and growing pains alike.

A smile tugged at his lips as he watched her bounce in her seat, squishing crackers under her palms, squealing in delight at the mess it produced. They had been attempting to switch her over from formula to solid meals, but Sarika seemed more happy annihilating her food rather than eating it.

She was also beautiful; dark, fuzzy hair, almond-shaped eyes the colour of bottle-green glass, and a pale grey skin tone. She was a happy child, content both by herself and with others. His mother absolutely adored her.

He did, as well. He had felt protective of those close to him before, most of all Tali, but not quite so fiercely as he did when looking at his daughter. The feeling of knowing that he was the only thing standing between her and death should danger arise, with her not being able to protect herself, was almost painfully strong.

He heard feet on the tile and looked up from his now-assembled sandwich to see Tali smiling faintly at him, hair mussed from sleep.

"Good, er, afternoon." she said quietly, walking over to Sarika. "And to you as well."

Sarika smashed more crackers with her palm, bouncing in her seat at the sight of her mother and beginning to giggle.

Tali smiled up at him. "She seems a lot happier."

"So do you." he replied, handing her her breakfast, which she took gratefully.

"Thanks. Where's Auntie Raan?" she asked, picking at her food.

"Passed out upstairs. This monster kept her up all night." he commented, jerking a thumb at the baby.

As if sensing she was being talked about, Sarika looked up from her cracker destruction, eyeing her father suspiciously.

"Ah?"

"Yes, you. You may look like an angel, but the noises that come out of you tell a different story." he said to her, raising a brow.

Tali watched Shepard have a conversation with the infant, somehow able to keep the flow of words coming even with their daughter's one-syllable responses.

Her eyes drifted over him, noticing the graceful lines of muscle through his t-shirt. The muscles in his arms rippled and flexed as he moved to clean up the mess he'd made from lunch—all the while talking to Sarika—and the hard lines of his back flowed like water under a blanket as he rotated.

A child hardly allowed time for intimacy, and they'd been sorely deprived. She could count on one hand the number of times they'd had sex the past couple of months, either too tired or too busy for such luxuries.

It was something she particularly craved now, with her head clear from exhaustion and belly full with food.

She walked up behind him as he stood at the sink, sliding her arms around his waist and standing on her toes to kiss the back of his neck. She felt him shiver and stop what he was doing, slowly turning on his heel and looking down at her, heat clear in his blue gaze. He smiled faintly, pulling her against him and sighing at the feel of her soft body pressed into his.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, leaning into him. "How soon do you think Sarika will need a nap?"

"If it's in her best interests, as soon as damn possible." he replied quietly, leaning in to kiss her.

"Bah! Ah ah ah!" a shriek behind them, this one particularly loud, and by the sound of it, about to get ugly unless her demands were met.

He sighed, forehead pressing against Tali's. They stood their for a moment, wishing for even fifteen minutes alone. Hardly what he'd call proper love-making, but he'd work with whatever time was allowed him.

More noises, these ones more insistent, came from Sarika, making Tali reluctantly pull away from her husband and walk over to their daughter.

She murmured softly to her in Khelish as she picked her up, noticing that her diaper needed changing. The kid really knew how to kill the mood.

She smiled back at Shepard, whose eyes had been drawing lines of fire down her body, making her shift uncomfortably where she stood. "I have to go change her." she said to him. "I'll be right back."

His eyes finally met hers and he nodded. The promise in his eyes was almost impossible to resist, the noisy child in her arms the only thing holding her back from lunging at him.

She quickly exited the kitchen, afraid—and intrigued—of what would happen if she stayed there any longer.

Sarika began to tug on the loose strands of her hair that had escaped its messy bun, getting bits of cracker everywhere.

Messy, dirty hair, unkempt clothing, and dark circles under her eyes. Shepard must be pretty desperate if he found her sexy, as it was the last thing she felt, especially when changing diapers.

Yet all she had to do was look in her daughter's green eyes, and a smile would pull on her mouth. She may feel like The Grunge Lady, but if it was the price to pay for having such a joy in her life, she'd gladly live in sweat pants for the next ten years.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3: Sow**

"Ma."

No response.

"Mama."

Still, nothing.

"Mamamamamamamama—"

"Keelah, Sarika. What is it?"

"Up!"

"I'm busy making din—"

"Up up up!"

Tali turned from her position at the counter to see Sarika tugging on her pant leg, demanding to be held.

"Go ask your father. I have to make dinner."

Her face contorted in a frown. "Up!"

"Come here, kid. Stop bothering your mother."

Sarika suddenly squealed as she was turned upside-down by Shepard, squirming and giggling in his arms.

He grinned at Tali. "I've gotten a hold of the prisoner, ma'am. She won't bother you again."

"No!" their daughter voiced her opinion on being held captive, pulling on her father's t-shirt.

"You can sit in the living room until we eat."

"'ip! 'ip 'ip 'ip!"

"Fine. We'll play ship."

With that he disappeared into the living room, holding Sarika by the waist, her arms flailing wildly at her inverted world.

Tali smiled, turning back to the counter. Sarika had become mobile, with speech soon following. Her first word ever had been "no," which she suspected was a product of being around her father, who was the most stubborn person she'd ever met. When Tali had voiced her theory to him, his only response had been a glare.

Now Sarika had begun stringing words together. Not true sentences, but for the most part she got her point across.

"Ship" was currently her favourite activity—besides ensuring that neither Tali nor Shepard had a moment alone—and was one invented by her father.

He'd lift her up in the air using his biotic abilities, and slowly fly her around the room. This had been the source of endless amusement on their daughter's part, and was a sure-fire way of keeping her occupied.

She suspected that John had dug a hole for himself by showing Sarika that certain pass-time, as he'd barely been able to sit down for five minutes before being commanded to lift her in the air.

Screeching and giggling could be heard in the other room, making Tali bite her lip to keep from laughing. Obviously he'd begun playing with her.

As she walked over to the fridge, she craned her neck to see into the living room doorway. Shepard was lying on his back on the couch, with Sarika floating above him, wreathed in azure and seized by a fit of giggles.

As she turned back to the mixture of vegetables and fruits on the counter—with levo and dextro foods carefully separated—she wondered what the galaxy would think of their hero making engine noises to a toddler. She laughed to herself, imagining Garrus seeing this display. Shepard would never live it down.

She let her mind drift as she prepared dinner, watching the minutes tick by on the clock near her. She and John had gone through some rough patches earlier on in Sarika's life, exhaustion making the both of them antagonistic and impatient. More than a few nights had left Shepard to sleep in the guest bedroom or couch.

She always hated going to bed angry, but their irritation and tiredness had made them both stubborn, unwilling to be the one that apologised first. Childish behaviour, but it was surprising what four hours of sleep a night could do to a person.

Some of their frustration had stemmed from a lack of sex. It was getting better now that Sarika slept through the night, but spontaneous encounters had become a thing of the past, both of them now having to be cautious of when and where they made love. Sarika seemed to be gunning for catching them in the act, and they'd both gone their separate ways more than a few times after having been caught by an observant toddler.

As Tikkun began to set, she finished the meal and got plates and cups out, beginning to set the table. When that was done, she laid out all the food and other condiments.

"Supper!" she called, washing her hands.

There was no response, and she noticed that she could no longer hear any giggling. Walking through the kitchen and into the living room, she was stopped in the doorway by the sight that greeted her.

John was asleep on the couch, one arm hanging off the cushions and fingers brushing the carpet. The other was curled around Sarika, who was resting peacefully on his chest, snoring faintly.

She let another smile tug on her mouth as she watched them sleep. She always loved seeing it; John's features had lost the anxious edge to them in dreams, which had mostly been due to the pressure put on him during the War.

And she could watch her daughter for hours. To see her slowly changing, growing older. To bear witness to her bones becoming more pronounced, being shaped into the woman she would one day become.

Tali walked over to them, gently running her fingers through Shepard's hair. He'd let it grow out a little since retiring, but he always kept it short and uniform.

His brows drew together and he slowly opened his eyes. The man was an amazingly light sleeper.

He blinked, looking up at her. He saw her smiling down at him and grinned. "Good evening."

She laughed. "Supper's ready."

* * *

His mind drifted lazily as he began to wake up, feeling the warm rays of the morning sun heat the blankets.

Then he felt a cannonball launch into his stomach.

"Daddy!"

He groaned, folding in on himself as he tried to bear the weight. "Christ, do you know how much you wei—"

"Ou'side!" he opened his eyes to see her pointing a finger out of the bedroom window.

Big flecks of snow fell softly outside the window pane, and he could see the ground covered with a fluffy white layer.

He laughed, sitting up in bed. "Looks like it's snowing. I didn't think we got snow here."

She made an insistent noise, pulling on his arm and demanding that he get up. "Just wait a minute. I have to get dressed."

It was a highly uncomfortable experience, being watched by a toddler as one put clothes on. She sat on the corner of the bed, gazing at him impatiently until he was fully clothed.

As he pulled his shirt on, he saw Sarika lunge at Tali, who was still sleeping soundly.

"Oof!"

"Mama!"

Tali sat up, rubbing her eyes. "Keelah, honey. What do you want?"

She pointed outside again, and he could see her trying to form the word "snow".

Tali's eyes widened and she looked over at Shepard. "Is that snow?"

He nodded, smiling faintly. "Looks like it."

Sarika scrunched her face up, trying to produce the unfamiliar word. "Sow?" she asked, looking at him as if for confirmation.

"Snow."

"Sow?"

He laughed. "Close enough. Come on. Let your mother get dressed. We'll eat and then go—"

She jumped clumsily off of the bed and brushed past him into the hallway. She tugged on the gate blocking the top of the stairs, which ensured that she not fall down them in the middle of the night should she awaken.

"Beffist!"

"Yes, let's go eat breakfast."

* * *

Sarika inhaled her food, wanting nothing more than to go outside and explore the winter wonderland that lay just beyond their front door.

It was a struggle to get her coat and boots on, but telling her that she wasn't allowed to go outside until properly dressed was enough incentive to get her to cooperate.

Now he stood next to Tali, watching their daughter stomp around in the snow, delighted at all the shapes she could make with it.

"How are you not freezing?" Tali asked, and he could see her breath puff out.

He laughed, looking down at himself. He wrote the simple N7 jacket, with only a t-shirt under it.

"Cybernetics come in handy for a lot of things." he commented, pulling her close.

"Mmm." she wrapped an arm around his waist, leaning into him. "It looks like Noveria."

He laughed. "It does, a little. Not quite as cold, though."

She shivered, remembering. "I thought my fingers would fall off, holding my shotgun. That thing was freezing!"

"Well, if your hands are cold now, I've got somewhere you can put—" he burst out laughing at the look she gave him, interrupting himself.

"You're—"

"Unbelievable?"

"Yes."

Sarika suddenly ran up to them, snow flying as she tromped through it.

"Come!" she tugged at their hands, trying to pull them deeper into the snow.

As they played with her in the snow, Sarika had found out what an excellent building material it made, and had begun to construct a massive wall, claiming that whatever land that lay within her structure was hers.

When Shepard had shown her how to make snowballs, a war had broken out, one that left him and Tali red-faced with melted snow and wet feet.

Sarika's massive stores of energy had finally depleted, and now she lay in the snow, giggling at the sight of her breath fogging in the air.

Tali walked over to her, watching her roll around in the snow. "Had enough?"

"No!" she protested, though it was more to be contrary than the actual truth. She could tell that Sarika was tired, a state of being not exclusive to their daughter—having a snowball fight was hard work.

"Why don't we go inside and have some hot chocolate?" She suggested, which made Sarika's eyes widen with excitement.

The little girl sprung from her prone position in the snow, smiling. "Choca!"

She made a beeline for the front door, and Tali smiled as she watched Shepard catch up to her, long legs covering the distance quickly. She jogged towards them as well, hoping that Sarika didn't track melted snow all over the carpet.

* * *

Shepard rummaged through the cupboards, looking for packets of hot chocolate. They'd gotten Sarika out of her wet clothes and into warm pyjamas, deciding to have a lazy day since the snow began to pick up.

As he looked through drawers he found a packet, though it was one he hadn't intended on using.

He looked down at it, smiling faintly. It was years old, and likely stale, but it wasn't it's inedible state that brought a smile to his face.

He remembered the tiny girl that had given it to him so long ago, a welcome companion as he'd recovered on earth after the war and waited for any word from the Normandy.

Memories before he'd reunited with his crew were not happy ones. They were filled with longing and lonely nights, staring up at a tented hospital ceiling and wondering if they'd ever come back. If they were even alive.

Maddy MacLaine, a small Irish girl, had been a friend to him in those dark days, when death had seemed an almost welcomed fate to him.

She'd given him this packet of cocoa, in case he ever got cold again.

"Shepard? Have you found any?"

Tali walked up to him and stood on her tip-toes to look over his shoulder, seeing the small packet he held.

"That looks a little old. Do you think that it'll be okay?"

He smiled down at the cocoa, remembering the red-haired girl's Irish brogue.

"I think it'll be just fine."

* * *

Contrary to popular belief, this will actually begin to have some sort of plot to it at some point. I've just enjoyed cock-blocking everyone's favourite couple far too much for said plot to form as of yet.

Also, Maddy. If you don't know who she is, she's from my other story, The Silence After. She will become a part of _this_ story, so you may be a little confused if you haven't read tSA.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: This took a little longer than usual, so I apologise for that.

Life + writer's block = no work done

...Actually, I'm lying. I just spend far too much time on the Internet.

* * *

**Chapter 4: Nor-man-dee**

Tali watched Sarika look around nervously, cowering back into either her or Shepard when someone approached them. It was her first day of school, which was an understandably daunting experience.

They'd already met with her teacher, who seemed to be a lovely woman. Tali had always been a little wary of leaving her daughter alone with a stranger, but the woman had a calm expression and an encouraging personality, which allowed her to relax.

She smiled faintly as she watched the other children stare in awe at the sight of her father, who was taller and broader than most quarians, making him naturally conspicuous. Add to the fact that he currently had god-like status on Rannoch due to his efforts in the War, and the children couldn't take their eyes off them.

Neither could some of the parents. A few of the mothers eyed him a little longer than necessary, making her draw closer to him.

He smiled down at her. "Something wrong?"

"You're too..." her mouth twisted, trying to think of a word. "Here."

He laughed. "'Here'? What does that mean, exactly?"

"Half of the woman are looking at you." she replied, threading her arm through his.

"Well, that's not surprising." he commented, getting a light smack in return.

He laughed, pulling her closer. "Don't worry, I won't fall prey to Temptation. And even if I do, you've got a shotgun." he added, grinning down at her. She glared at his response.

"Daddy." he felt a tug on his jacket and saw Sarika looking up at him with a pleading expression.

"What is it, honey?"

"I can't get my zipper undone."

He laughed, kneeling down and inspecting her coat, whose zipper had been caught in bunched-up material. He watched Tali walk by, giving him a look as she went to go talk with the teacher again.

"There." he said after a moment of battling with the knotted material, sliding the zipper down and undoing her jacket. She frowned, shuffling her feet and not moving to take her coat off.

"What's the matter?" he asked gently.

"I don't want you and mama to go." she said, looking at him. Her eyes looked bright and he could see that tears would arrive soon.

"We'll be back at the end of the day, Sarika. We won't leave you here."

"But I don't know anyone! They keep staring at me." she whispered, then shot a glare at the nearest child, who was openly ogling her. His eyes darted away and he hurried to his cubby to put away his things.

He laughed. "That's because they know how awesome your parents are."

She gave him a look that he swore he'd seen on Tali before, making him laugh harder.

"You'll be fine, Sarika. If anyone asks you questions, just answer honestly."

Her mouth twisted. "Okay. Even the stuff about you and mom during the war?"

"If they ask, sure."

She smiled bravely and hugged him. "I love you."

"And I you. We'll see you later. Have a good day, okay?"

She nodded, hopping off towards her mother and hugging her quickly. The teacher tentatively went to talk to her, then motioned for her to go into the classroom. With a look back and an enthusiastic wave to both of them, she disappeared inside.

Tali walked over to him, smiling. "You think she'll be okay?"

He laughed. "I watched her glare at a kid for staring at her too long. She'll be fine."

* * *

Sarika looked around at the classroom, shoving her stuff in her tiny cubby space.

She really liked the walls. The room was light and pretty, with swirls and lined patterns decorating parts of the wall, almost like mama's suit, but different colours.

She ventured over to a small station in one part of the room, seeing a toy bin and building blocks sitting around. She went to go play with them, but saw a few kids beat her to it, and thought better of it. Dad had said to make friends, but she figured she'd do that later.

Looking around for something else to do, she spotted a fairly empty area that had what looked like toy ships sitting on a table. She walked over and inspected them, turning one of them over in her hands. A live-ship, she remembered it was called. It had a funny-looking ball on the front that would spin if she pushed it.

Another one she picked up looked like a shooting star, with a circle in the front and small pieces branching off of it. She looked around for more, then smiled when she saw it.

The Normandy. She put the other boring ships down and picked it up, running her finger over the smooth surface of its hull. It even had the weird letters on the side that Daddy always wrote in, but he'd taught her how to read them.

"Nor-man-dee ess-ar-two." she said out loud, turning the plastic ship in her hands and seeing tiny gun barrels on the bottom of it.

"I see you found your father's ship." she looked up to see the teacher smiling warmly at her.

She nodded. "Mama says it's her ship too."

The teacher laughed. "I'm sure it is. We're about to start an activity in a few minutes. Why don't you tell the class about it?"

She bit her lip, suddenly nervous. She didn't want to talk to the kids. They would all stared at her.

The lady smiled again, and she reached out a hand to Sarika. "Come on. I'll help you, if you want."

She shook her head stubbornly, frowning. "I don't need help."

The teacher chuckled. "Alright. Well, come sit down." the teacher looked around the classroom, raising her voice when she talked again so she could be heard over the din of giggling children. "Come on, everyone! Sit down in a circle on the carpet."

She watched kids put down—or outright drop—the things they were playing with and hurry over to the carpeted area, which had plush pillows to sit on and a bright holo-screen on the wall. She wondered if they would watch movies.

Sarika cautiously walked over to the carpet, ship still held tightly in her grip. She sat down next to someone who hadn't seemed to notice her, too busy talking with the kid next to them. She saw people whispering and looking at her, but she frowned and refused to break eye contact first.

"Okay, everyone!" The teacher sat down with them on the carpet, a warm smile on her face. "Since we aren't all familiar with each other yet, why don't we each say something about ourselves?"

Sarika looked down at the toy ship she still held, wondering what she would say. She heard the teacher ask someone to start, and half-listened to a kid talk about how his parents were ar-ki-tecks.

She bit her lip again, hoping the teacher would forget about her. She didn't want everyone staring at her; they did enough of that already. She didn't like talking in front of people, especially ones she didn't know.

_"You'll be fine, Sarika. If anyone asks you questions, just answer honestly."_

Her dad's voice echoed in her mind, and she smiled a little, thinking of her parents. They wouldn't be afraid of talking, so neither should she.

"Sarika?"

She was startled out of her thoughts to see everyone looking expectantly at her. She swallowed, pushing down her nervousness and thinking of her mom and dad again to help calm herself.

"Tell us a bit about yourself."

She nodded at the teacher, who smiled encouragingly at her.

"My name's Sarika," she started off—

"Commander Shepard's your dad, right?" one kid asked, and she glared at him.

"I'm not done talking!"

"It's alright." the teacher said in a calm grown-lady voice. "Why don't you tell us about the ship you're holding?"

She looked down at the toy. "Oh, yeah. This is the Nor-man-dee," she said, holding it up for the others to see. "It was my dad's ship. Mama said he wouldn't have kept it flying without her."

"Your parents really saved the galaxy?" a girl asked.

Sarika smiled, feeling pride swell within her. "Yup. And they gave Rannoch back to us. And uncle Garrus said that they blew up a bunch of Reapers, too."

Kids scrambled to ask her question after question, eyes filled with excitement. At first it had scared her, but after a while she realised how awesome it was to have parents that saved the galaxy.

* * *

Sarika sat at a table, drinking a juice box. It was snack time, which was really cool; she was hungry. She pawed through the things her parents had packed in her lunch box and pushed the gross stuff in one pile and the good stuff in another.

"Can I sit with you?"

She looked up from her sorting to see a girl standing there, holding her lunch box nervously. She had light coloured hair and blue eyes, and looked just as shy as Sarika felt.

She shrugged. "Okay."

The girl smiled and sat down beside her, plunking her lunch on the table.

"My name's Yinnaia, but you can call me Yinn."

"That's a weird name." Sarika commented, and the girl glared at her.

"Not as weird as yours!"

"Nu-uh!"

"Is too!"

"Girls, what's the matter?" the teacher overheard their arguing and came over.

"She called me weird!" Yinn said, pointing an accusing finger at Sarika.

"I called your name weird, not you."

Yinn glared at her again and she heard the teacher sigh.

"Sarika, everyone's name is normal to someone, and also odd to others. Think about your father's; Jonathan is a common human name, but is odd to quarians. Yinnaia's name is normal to her, as yours is to you." the lady smiled. "Now, I want you both to apologise and see if you can't get back on a better path to becoming friends." the teacher looked expectantly at both of them.

Sarika frowned, sliding lower in her seat and glowering at the table as she pushed down her pride. She hated apologising to people. "Sorry."

Yinn grinned. "It's okay. I called your name weird too."

The teacher nodded, now seemingly happy with the state of things. "Good. Now, eat your snacks quickly, as we're about to start another activity."

The lady walked away and Sarika snuck a glance at Yinn, who seemed to be going through her lunch and beginning the same systematic cataloging of her food.

Yinn looked over at her shyly, smiling a little. "It must be awesome having parents like yours." she said nervously.

Sarika shrugged. "I guess. Mostly people just stare at me. And dad; he's the only human on Rannoch."

"Humans look pretty close to quarians," Yinn observed. "'cept that they have weird legs and too many fingers."

Sarika smiled as she thought back to her father drumming his fingers on the kitchen table, and her watching in fascination, wondering how he could move them all at once without getting them tangled up.

She looked down at her own hand, flexing her two thicker fingers and rotating her thumb. Mama had hands like her, and legs and feet. She wondered if having straight legs hurt at all.

"Do you wanna be friends?" Sarika asked suddenly, making Yinn stop in her battle to get a snack out from its wrapper.

The girl smiled. "Sure. But you have to let me come over to your house!"

Sarika smiled back. "Okay."

They ate the rest of their snack in silence, but Sarika was happy. She'd made a friend. Her mama had said to make sure to be so-shul with the other kids and make friends, but she'd been too nervous before. Now she could tell her parents that someone liked her.

The teacher called them over after a few minutes, and they both stood up and put their lunch boxes away, smiling shyly at one another.

But when Sarika walked over to the carpet, she wasn't alone.

* * *

Shepard battled to keep the smile off of his face as he drove, listening at Sarika talked animatedly in the back seat.

She had certainly enjoyed her first day of school, it seemed. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Tali fighting the same battle as she asked their daughter various questions about her day.

"I met this girl Yinn who has a weird name and doesn't talk a lot but I think she's nice and I asked her if she wanted to be friends and she said yes and that I have to bring her over to our house sometime to play." Sarika took a deep breath from her flood of words, but a lack of oxygen seemed to be the only thing stopping her verbal diarrhoea, and with that problem now solved, words came pouring out of her once more.

He hadn't ever seen her like this. She'd been excited before, but not like this. Her jumpy movements and fast, almost clumsy delivery of her words reminded him of Tali, making him lose his fight and break into a smile.

They flew into sight of their house, and Shepard gave a contented sigh. It was always nice to get home.

He and Tali had gotten jobs in the nearby city recently. Although money was hardly an issue, they had become restless at home with little to do besides look after Sarika.

Tali worked at an engineering yard, where they built and repaired ships. Usually ships were all built by tech VIs, but quarians valued fine craftsmanship when dealing with something as important as a ship, and as a result were a large part of the assembly process. It had become their galactic trade; if you needed a ship, you bought it from the quarians. Much of their lost respect in the galactic community had been recovered with this new industry, something that they were still getting used to.

Shepard helped train their marines. They had little ground-based military to speak of, and had far less advanced knowledge in the art of ground war. Shepard being a top N7 graduate and a Spectre had made him a popular target when approached with job offers such as that.

It was something he enjoyed. It gave him purpose and helped him stay in shape. His muscles tended to become restless and jumpy if he took extended breaks from physical labour, and this had cleared up much of it.

He knew Tali enjoyed working, as well; his wife had a highly active, technical mind, and he had suspected that she missed the kinds of tasks and challenges given to her on the Normandy.

He pulled into their lot, shutting off the car and looking over to Sarika, who was still talking.

"So, you excited to go to school tomorrow?"

She grinned. "Oh yeah!"

* * *

_He stood on a cliff face, overlooking the sparkling ocean. Its waves were calm yet constant, the only thing disrupting the natural flow being the dark corpse of a Reaper._

_He felt a tug on his hand and looked down to see his daughter staring at the malevolent husk. A small click went off inside his brain. He'd had this dream many times before, yet only now did the little girl in his dreams have a face. He wondered if he'd dreamt about her this whole time, or if his mind had just matched Sarika with the faceless girl._

_"What is that?" she asked, pointing to metal skeleton._

_"A Reaper." he replied calmly, looking back at it. Its dead eye glowered menacingly at him, as if in silent warning to its return from the dead._

_He heard a strange whirring, as if something were powering up—_

"Shepard!" he heard a furious whisper. Tali. "Someone's outside!"

He jerked awake and was instantly on alert. His hand reached down and retrieved the knife from between the mattress, throwing the covers off and quickly pulling on his t-shirt, which had been thrown onto a chair.

Now clad in loose pants and a shirt, he looked over at Tali, her form silhouetted in the dim light of the moons. "Go into Sarika's room and wait there. I'll go see who's at the door."

She nodded simply and walked over to the closet, opening the door and reaching up to grab a locked box on the top shelf. Unlocking it, she grabbed the pair of handguns in it and handed him one, thermal clip loaded.

"I'll be back in a minute." he said quietly, heading out into the hallway and down the stairs, cybernetically-enhanced eyes piercing the liquid black of night that had settled in their home.

Now in the tiny front foyer of the house, he pressed his back up against the wall and glanced outside the door's window. In the faint light of Rannoch's moons, he could see an aircar—no, a shuttle.

He squinted in the dim light to try and see who it was, then breathed a sigh of relief when he saw an Alliance logo on the side of the vehicle. He quietly unlocked the door and lowered his gun—but kept it loaded—and placed his knife on the side table before walking outside.

He took cautious steps on the rocky dust that covered the plot of land they lived on, then threw an arm up to cover his eyes when the shuttle opened and light flooded onto the dirt.

A figure stepped out and he squinted again, tightening his grip on the gun he held.

"I'd like to ask who you are." he called across the plot, hearing the engines die down on the shuttle. Whoever it was, they planned to be here a while; shuttle engines took time to start up.

"It's Hackett, Commander. You can put your gun down." the man called, walking towards him. Two other Alliance soldiers followed behind him, and as the shuttle door closed he could once again make out images. Hackett being one of them.

He raised a brow, letting his arm fall limp to the side, gun now pointed at the ground. "Sir? I'm surprised that you're all the way out here."

The Admiral nodded. "Indeed. I wouldn't be out here if it wasn't important."

Shepard gestured for them to come inside, stepping through the door, flicking on the hall light and turning once more.

"Now, what is it you'd like to talk to me about, sir?"

* * *

Super fun writing Sarika's POV. I tried to capture a little bit of personality from each parent into her, and the result was hilarious.

Also, a wild plot appeared! Isn't that awesome? Sort of a cliffhanger, but the next update shouldn't be that far away; I've already gotten a lot of the next chapter written out.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: So when I mentioned that a plot was going to form at some point, I actually meant that I was going to bash you upside the head with it and hope that you didn't mind the complete change in tone.

Very action-filled chapter. Little out of the blue, but it'll make more sense as the story progresses.

* * *

**Chapter 5: A Short Walk**

Maddy kicked the covers off of her, staring up at her low ceiling. She'd been lazing around in bed for an hour or so, either dozing or playing with her crappy omni-tool. Not like there was anything else to do.

"Maddy! Get down here and help me make supper!" she heard a distant call from her mother in the kitchen. She sighed, swinging her legs off of her small bed and making her way downstairs.

As she walked to the kitchen, she caught a glimpse of outside. Rolling hills and tall, alien trees covered with weird-looking leaves. She hated living here. She missed London.

"Maddy!"

"I'm comin'!"

She arrived in their cramped kitchen to see her mother standing over the stove, cooking God knew what.

"Cut up those vegetables on the counter over there." her mother ordered.

She looked down at them, wondering what they were.

"Are ye even able to eat these?" she inquired, gingerly picking up an orange-coloured root and taking a sniff. It smelled bitter and earthy.

"Aye. Now cut them up. I'm putting them in the stew."

"I dinna want stew again. This is the fourth time we've had it!"

"I'm afraid there isn't much else to eat until I do some proper shopping and stock the pantries. Now cut."

"We had stocked pantries in London." she muttered, pulling out a knife and sawing up what looked like grizzled chicken legs.

They'd moved to this remote colony a few weeks ago, and she already hated it. She didn't know anyone at school, didn't know her way around the small city they lived in, and she _hated_ the food. Whatever crops they grew here all tasted bitter and stale, like they planted the vegetables in old socks or something.

Her mother hadn't told her why they had moved here, but she could guess at it. She likely couldn't stand living in the house Maddy's father was killed in, a brutal attack by the Reapers during the war.

Her mam had put up with living there ten years after the war, so she certainly didn't know what had changed. It wasn't like she could escape it, either; Maddy had seen the pained looks her mother would give her from time to time, the jagged scar running down her cheek a permanent reminder of that awful day.

"Here." she said, walking over to the stove, handing her mother the mutilated chicken-foot vegetables.

"Thank ye. Where's the marsan?"

"The what?"

"It's green and leafy, like lettuce. Where is it?"

"Ye didna put any out."

Her mother brushed past her and rooted through the fridge, making a sound of frustration when she came up empty-handed.

"Ye need to go to the store, it seems."

"It's dark! And cold! I'm no' going out there!"

"Ye are if ye want dinner." her mother snapped her fingers, pointing towards the front door. "Put your coat on. It's a short walk."

"Can I drive?"

Her mother gave her a look. "I already told ye no, Madeline. Ye don't have your licence yet."

"Ugh." she headed for the front door, shoving on her shoes and pulling her coat from one of the pegs. As she opened the door and stepped out, she heard her mother call behind her. "Be careful! It's dark!"

"Don't worry! I willna talk to any pedophiles!"

She shut the door and hopped down the stairs, shoving her hands in her pockets and heading down the path to their house and onto the sidewalk.

She looked around at the other houses as she walked towards the small market nearby, noting that it was unusually quiet. The two moons orbiting the colony were very bright tonight, but the whole neighbourhood seemed particularly dark.

She shivered and kept walking, shaking her head. Everyone was probably asleep already. She didn't blame them; she'd want to escape into unconsciousness too, living on this shoddy planet.

A loud bang in the distance made her heart clench in surprise, and she scanned the area, looking for signs of trouble. Paranoia crept in and she picked up the pace, digging her keys out from her coat pocket and slipping them between her fingers, just in case. After a few moments of silence, she began to relax again.

She wondered what she'd be doing right now, if she had friends here. Maybe going to a party, or hanging out at the park. No one would really talk to her in school, though. She was just That One Girl With The Weird Scar.

Literally, that's what people called her. If they couldn't remember her name, that's what she went by. She hated having it on her face. The only thing that stopped her from getting it removed was the thought of Commander Shepard. Maddy had seen the scars that he bore from his battles, and wore them proudly. If he could do it, then she could, too.

She wondered how he was doing. She still had that helmet he'd let her keep from all those years ago, when he'd given her a tour of the Normandy. It was a pleasant memory.

Where was he now? She'd heard that he'd settled on Rannoch with that quarian woman, something she found romantic; she wasn't a gushy person, but the White Knight in Shining Armour type hero was always intriguing to her.

Another loud bang cracked in the stars, this one closer, and she looked up at the sky, wondering what it was.

_Just fireworks,_ she thought.

But Maddy couldn't see any flares or sparks. She shivered again, glancing behind her by reflex.

Terror gripped her as she saw someone walking several feet behind her, form clouded in shadow, footsteps almost silent in the stillness of the late evening.

Her breath fogged out in front of her and she continued forward in a light jog. She couldn't go home, as she would have to walk past the person behind her.

She looked back again, seeing him now closer to her. She bit her lip, trying to calm the fluttering of her heart. She gripped her keys more tightly in her fingers. _It's just a random local. He isn't—_

"Excuse me, miss?"

Oh God, it was a rapist.

She bolted, feet digging into the soil and concrete as she fled for the market. She needed to get in a crowd of people.

She flew across other people's lawns, making a beeline for the rows of stores that were just ahead. She cleared the neighbourhood and ran past one of the stalls, then skidded to a stop and turned.

No one was there.

They were always here. The locals seemed to love selling odd trinkets after dark, along with more of the normal grocers selling food and supplies.

She heard screaming, followed by a succession of sharp reports from a gun. She looked around frantically, trying to find someone in the sea of darkness. She noticed that the lights hanging on the stalls had been blown out, some still sparking. The only light she could see by were the moons.

"Maddy!"

She felt hands on her shoulders and she threw up her arms, trying to be rid of her assailant.

"Jesus, stop! It's me!" Her brother's face came into view, and she blew out a breath.

"Could ye not—"

"Maddy, what are ye doing here?" he asked, almost in a panic. She could see that he still had his work clothes on, his hands dirty from helping move crates or whatever hell it was that he did.

"Buying vegetables for mam. What's going on?"

"It's th—" a pistol went off just over their heads, making them duck and sprint away.

"Run!"

Fear tightened in her chest, making it difficult to breathe. She heard Ian's long strides beside her as they ran in a random direction, adrenaline taking over their bodies.

More shots sounded off, and she heard Ian cry out, followed by a grassy thud.

"Ian!" she turned to see him laying in the grass, smeared with mud. He clutched at his bloody leg, but was still scrambling to try and get up, to run.

Bullets whizzed by her and she screamed and covered her head with her arms, indecision freezing her in place. She saw people running towards them, the lights of their armour glowing ominously in the black of night.

"Maddy, run!" her brother's eyes, filled with terror, met hers, silently pleading that she get away. One of the figures fired another round into her brother, catching him in the side and making him go limp.

_"No!"_

She ran towards the attackers, fists swinging. One of them brought up their gun and smashed her in the jaw with it, making her vision blur.

Hands clawed at her arms, fingers digging brutally into her cold skin. She screamed again, fighting to get free, but another smash of the gun darkened her vision, and the last thing she saw was black armour and blood.

* * *

Hackett followed the Commander down the hallway, seeing him call up the stairs to his wife that it was just the Admiral, and headed into the kitchen.

"Expecting trouble, Shepard?" Hackett asked, watching him walk over to the coffee machine in the dim light of the kitchen and begin to fiddle with it.

"I think it was Vakarian who told me to always expect the worst and hope to be pleasantly surprised." Shepard commented with a faint smile, assembling the equipment needed to make his drink. He looked over at the Admiral. "Can I get any of you anything?"

Hackett waved a hand. "Nothing, Shepard. I apologise for the late visit; I knew I'd gotten the time zones mixed up."

Shepard smiled again, leaning on the counter. "Not a problem. I have to ask though—why are you here? Couldn't you have just called the QEC in our office?"

"Easier, yes, but I thought that speaking with you personally would be best." he watched the Commander raise a brow, Hackett's comment grabbing his full attention.

"And what would that be about, sir?"

"It seems I'll need you to return for some active duty."

"Indeed?" he asked, crossing his arms over his chest. "What's going on?"

"One of our colonies have been attacked, and a fairly new one at that."

"By whom?"

"The batarians."

Shepard sighed. "What the hell are they doing? I know we don't exactly have the greatest relationship with them at the moment, but why are they attacking a colony?"

"It's an extremist leading the group—" he saw the Commander roll his eyes and smiled faintly. "—though I'm certain that doesn't come as a surprise to you."

"What's the motivation?"

"It isn't quite clear yet, but it seems that they want to get back at us for the Alpha Relay incident."

Shepard's face darkened, but he quickly smoothed his features over. "Why now? That happened what, ten, eleven years ago?"

Hackett nodded. "We aren't quite sure, as I said. We haven't been able to gather much intel from what happened, nor do we know if they've captured any civilians."

He heard creaking behind him and turned to see Tali'Zorah looking at him, clad in civvies. "Good evening, Admiral." she said politely, walking over to stand next to Shepard. "What's going on?"

"The batarians are making trouble for the Alliance." Shepard said. "They need help."

She frowned but said nothing, motioning for the Admiral to continue.

Hackett nodded to her. "So, I'm asking you another favour, Commander. I'll let you talk it over with your wife, but we have to act quickly before they strike again." his face darkened. "I'm sorry, Shepard. I don't mean to cause more trouble for you, but..."

"You need my help." Shepard finished, brows drawing together.

"Indeed. We need a competent infiltrator for what needs to be done. I'll brief on the full details you when you contact me."

Shepard nodded. "Alright."

"I'll be leaving, and let you and your wife talk." Hackett said, bowing slightly to them and turning to leave.

They escorted the Admiral and his two guards out the door, and Shepard could feel Tali's eyes on him the entire time. She wasn't happy.

"I don't want you to go." she said when he closed the door.

"I don't either, but it looks like I have to."

She looked at him sadly. "I wish I could come with you."

He returned the expression. "Maybe you—"

She shook her head. "We can't leave Sarika alone, or even with Raan. She's too young to be away from us, and it sounds like this won't be over in a day."

He sighed, pulling her close. "I know. I suppose... I should start packing."

She smiled up at him. "Not right now. We can do that in the morning." she pulled away, grabbing his hand and leading him up the stairs. "I know of a better way to pass the time."


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6: A Monster in Men's Clothing**

Tali bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing, watching her husband struggle with the Alliance uniform he had to wear, swearing under his breath.

"Who the hell came up with the idea that these needed to be as uncomfortable as possible? No wonder half the officers I meet are insufferable bastards; I would be too if I had to wear this all day." he said, more to himself than to her, yanking viciously on the collar and squirming at the itchy material.

She laughed, deciding to help end his torment and walked over to him. "Let me help." she pulled gently at the collar, making sure that the material didn't constrict around his throat. She tugged and straightened the overlap of the jacket, as the buttons were all crooked.

"It may be uncomfortable, but I never realised how good you look in this. You should wear it more often." she said, smiling coquettishly at him.

He grinned, pulling her closer. "We wouldn't get very far if I kept my clothes on."

She smiled back at him, though it held a touch of sadness. "I don't want you to leave." she said quietly, bringing a hand up to brush against his jaw.

He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close, chin resting on her soft hair. "I'll be back as soon as I can."

"Please be careful, John. I'm tired of seeing you get hurt." she said, pulling back a little to look him sternly in the eye.

"I won't leave you and Sarika alone, Tali. I'll come back." he kissed her, smiling faintly. "I promise."

"I'm holding you to that, John Shepard. I've already been to your funeral once. Make me go again and I'll have Miranda bring you back just so I can kill you." she replied, lips twitching.

He laughed, and was about to reply when he heard a knock at the door, followed by it opening a moment later.

"Hello?" it was his mother.

"Gramma!" they both smiled as they heard Sarika thunder down the hallway and barrel into Hannah.

"Lord, you've gotten big!" he heard his mother huff as she struggled to pick Sarika up, who was giggling and chattering excitedly at the sight of her grandmother.

"Where's your father?" she asked, then grinned when she saw him come to stand at the top of the stairs.

She raised a brow at his attire. "Alliance rags, eh? I think I've only seen you wear that uniform about three times."

He laughed, heading down the stairs. "I'll be staying on my mother's ship. Wouldn't want to leave a bad impression."

Hannah bit her lip to keep whatever comment she was about to make to herself, instead only grinning and handing Sarika over to him, who smiled up at her father.

"You look pretty, daddy."

He heard Tali snort behind him as she came down the stairs, and he gave her a look over his shoulder.

"Your father always looks pretty." Tali said in passing, going over to greet Hannah.

"It's good to see you." his mother said warmly. "All three of you." she sobered a little, looking at her son. "All packed?"

He nodded. "Yeah, mostly. Let me just grab my bag." he headed down the hall and into the living room with Sarika still in his arms, seeing his luggage by the vid screen, which was currently playing cartoons. He heard his mother and Tali begin talking quietly in the front hall as he set his daughter down and went over to go grab his things.

He felt a tug on his leg. "I don't want you to go, daddy." Sarika said mournfully, green eyes round.

He kept his features carefully schooled, making sure that he had a happy expression on his face. _Jesus, don't do this to me._

"I'll be back soon, Sarika. I promise." he said, smiling at her.

She hugged herself around his leg, face buried in the material of his pants. "Please don't leave. I'm gonna miss you."

He kneeled down, taking her by the arms. "I'll miss you too, but I have to go. I'll come home as soon as I can. I promise, okay?"

She smiled back at him and nodded, mouth wobbling. "I love you."

He hugged her close, swallowing hard. "I love you too."

* * *

Hannah watched her son as he lugged his suitcase to the shuttle, features drawn in a concentrated expression.

She'd left him and Tali to say their goodbyes in private, giving the couple a moment to themselves. She knew how hard it was to leave loved ones behind and head towards danger. Her heart had broken for him when Sarika had begun to cry, the pained look on his face not quite hidden.

It was a testament to his will that he didn't cave and stay on Rannoch. His daughter was a beautiful, sweet thing, and watching her soft, round features contort in sorrow was the most awful torture.

"It's hard, isn't it?" she asked him when they got to the shuttle.

He looked up at her. "What?"

"Leaving them behind." she said quietly.

A shadow passed over his visage, but he smiled faintly. "Not sure how you were able to keep doing it."

She opened the shuttle door and they ducked inside. John slid his luggage into one corner and sat down on the bench, flexing his left hand. Even after having his missing finger replaced and going through therapy, she knew that it stiffened up on him from time to time.

She smiled, leaning back against the wall. "It gets easier after the first few times. Though not by much." she added sadly.

He laughed a little. "Hopefully I won't have to keep doing this."

They quieted for a time as Hannah engaged the auto-pilot and flew out of atmosphere towards the Orizaba, watching her son's features harden as they drew closer. He was becoming the Commander again, a man with an inscrutable mask placed on a confident face. The Commander was a man that did not feel fear, nor regret. By the standards of the galaxy, he was not allowed to be a human being when in the face of danger. It was a burden that she was glad she didn't have to bear.

"Where's Hackett?" He asked suddenly, breaking the silence.

"He's on his ship, and we'll be flying there to meet him. Then we'll begin the hunt, so to speak."

John nodded. "What exactly are we doing, anyway? Hackett briefed me when I called him over the QEC, but he only said that we'd be going to some political party."

She felt her lips tug up. "Yes. The batarians have asked for a gathering of both species' political figures in a peace-making attempt. Smooth out our relationship and such."

He raised a brow, not looking convinced. "That doesn't sound good."

She nodded. "Indeed. But how can you refuse? 'Sorry, I'll hang back. I'm afraid you'll blow us up'?" she shook her head, darkly amused. "No, we have to go. Even if it'll end badly. That's why we need you, John. Your words carry a lot of weight in the human government. Hell, in the galactic government. It would be wise for you to show a friendly face to the batarians. They don't have a great opinion of you."

His face darkened, and she stumbled over her words. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean—"

He waved a hand, cutting her off. "It's all right. They have reason enough to hate me."

She sighed. "It... it's not your fault, John. If the Council would've just listened to you—"

"The Alpha Relay would still be destroyed. We'd just have more people with blood on their hands." he rubbed a hand over his face. "It's done, and I can't change it now. We just need to... to fix what we can with them." he looked up at her. "I'm assuming the man who attacked the colony will also be there?"

"That's what we've gathered, yes. He's almost a boy, really. He's supposedly in his early twenties, goes by the name Kargesh. Apparently he's an intimate of the batarian leaders on Kar'shan." she blew out a breath. "This won't be easy. We'll have to go in unarmed and unarmoured. I don't know how many of their politicians are in on it, but we've alerted our own to a possible threat. It'll be a damn tense evening before all hell breaks loose."

John laughed humourlessly. "Why am I not surprised?" his brows drew together. "What are they planning to do, do you know? Kill everyone? Take us hostage?"

She shook her head. "No idea. Honestly, this could be just a nice, relaxing evening with no gunfire or fighting. Somehow I'm not quite convinced. However, as a sign of good faith, they've allowed this party to be held on a human ship."

He raised another brow. "Indeed? So, if I fight breaks out on a human ship, we're to blame for starting it on our own turf?"

She smiled. "You're quick, John, I'll give you that."

* * *

Maddy coughed again, the bag over her head smelling of stale breath and sweat.

She was being lead down numerous corridors by someone. She didn't know who, but by the harsh sounding language and guttural tones, she'd figured that they were batarians.

Terror clenched in her chest. Her hands were locked up with omni-cuffs that dug heatedly into the skin of her wrists, and if she ever slowed her pace, she was given a vicious shove. She took the utmost care in not falling down; she did that once when they'd pushed her, and had gotten a jab to the stomach with the sharp point of a shotgun for it.

And Ian. The image of him getting shot continually played in her mind, watching the light leave his eyes as he collapsed onto the ground, either unconscious or dead. She wasn't a devout Christian, by any means, but she'd prayed to God the entire time she'd been conscious that Ian and her mother were still alive. She wondered if they were in the ship with her.

She heard shouting begin and the scrape of metal on the floor, and fear jolted through her. Maddy's lack of vision was slowly driving her insane. What were they going to do to her? God, please don't let them kill her. She was only fifteen, she hadn't lived, hadn't even had sex yet—

She was shoved to the ground and skidded across the cold floor, metal pulling on her sticky skin as she slid. More shouting, then a metal bang, and it was suddenly quiet. No wait, she could here someone breathing. Or was that just her?

She felt a gentle tug on the itchy sac on her head, and she squirmed, trying to get away from whoever was touching her.

"Hey, calm down! You're okay." a voice, female, human. She stilled.

The bag was removed and she gulped in cool air, feeling her curly hair stick to her head from sweating. A moment later she felt the cuffs disappear and she moaned at the sudden freedom of her arms. Her shoulder blades burned like holy hell.

She blinked up at the ceiling, which was metal. Everything was metal.

"You alright?" she turned her head to the voice, and saw a girl staring at her in the dim, sickly light. She had bruises on her face and a split lip, but seemed fairly pretty other than that. Her eyes hinted at an oriental background, and she had long black hair, which was tangled in a messy bun. She looked to be around Maddy's age.

"No." she said, sitting up slowly. Her head was pounding from the hits she'd taken, her bones hurt from falling, and fear was beginning to make her feel nauseous.

The girl nodded. "Guess that makes sense. I'm Jen, by the way."

"Maddy." she replied absentmindedly, eyes drifting around their prison.

They weren't the only people in here. There were another four or five men and women, but they seemed to be either hanging back or sleeping. At least, they looked like they were sleeping. God, she hoped they were just sleeping.

It was dank and dark, metal surrounding them at all angles. There were odd stains on the walls and floor that she didn't look at too closely, and there were a few hard benches attached to the walls. The room was thin but long, and the lighting was so bad that she couldn't see into the opposite corners at the end of the room.

She'd heard about slaver ships before, but had never been in one. Guess this is what being a prisoner felt like.

"Hey." Jen touched her shoulder and she flinched, remembering that she was there. The girl smiled. "It's okay. I'm scared too."

She bit her lip and swallowed hard, forcing down tears. Her brother's face, fearful and covered in mud and grass filled her mind, and she clenched her teeth harder. *Don't cry.*

Jen sat back, leaning against the wall. "Which colony you from? Or did they attack your ship?"

Maddy shook her head, bringing her knees up to her chest and hugging them close to herself, trying to stay warm. The batarians had taken her coat. She swallowed again, and when she spoke her voice barely wavered. "No, a colony. Intai'sei. My family lives near th' southern pole, where they grow food. Tastes bad, though."

Jen smiled faintly. "They attacked my father's ship. I think it was a week ago? I can't really tell from in here. Where are they taking us, do you think?"

Maddy shrugged, clenching her teeth again. "I dunno." Her mind drifted back to her brother, and guilt welled inside her. She'd just stood there while they shot him. Just like she'd hid when the Reapers attacked their home in London and killed her father.

She rested her chin on her knees, staring at her shoes. She was in a slaver ship, alone except for this other stranger sitting across from her. She was sore and exhausted and her clothes were uncomfortably sticky from sweating. She was cold and afraid. Never had she wanted her mother so badly in her life.

Despite her best efforts to hold it in, she felt her eyes sting and water, tears making tiny wet tracks down her cheeks.

She heard movement and felt someone sit beside her. Then she felt an arm wrap around her. Maddy looked up to see Jen staring at her, smiling sadly. Although the girl's gaze was warm, it held loneliness and fear, an expression that stopped Maddy from pulling away.

"I'm cold. Can I sleep next to you?"

Maddy smiled gratefully, nodding and wiping at her eyes, though not saying anything.

Jen's dark eyes lightened a little, and she scooted closer, laying her head on Maddy's shoulder and hugging her close. Maddy did the same.

She wondered how Jen had survived a week in here. Just a few minutes and

Maddy was already bursting into tears. At least she wasn't cold anymore.

Although she was afraid to fall asleep, the sudden warmth that Jen's small form provided was making her drowsy, and she realised how tired she was. With a lingering thought about hoping to not be killed, she drifted off to sleep, head resting against the other girl's.

* * *

A loud bang as a door was shoved open resounded in the jail, making everyone jerk awake. Maddy scrambled away from the door, dragging a confused Jen with her.

Light poured in from the hallway, making her squint and shade her eyes, groaning at the sudden change in lighting. A batarian stood in the doorway, clad in dark armour and holding a massive shotgun. He barked something, but spoke so quickly that her translator didn't pick it up.

His lips curled in a snarl, two black pairs of eyes finding the first thing they came to rest on. Which was Maddy and Jen.

He barked at them again, harsh language unintelligible to her. They sat there, staring up at him wordlessly, and the girls' lack of response seems to enrage him. With a guttural oath, he bent down and grabbed at Maddy's arm, hauling her roughly to her feet.

"Hey! Stop!" Jen yelled, jumping up and balling her fists. The batarian levelled his shotgun at her and she flinched, curling inwards on herself.

"Don't kill them." a voice said calmly behind the man holding her, this one far less vicious, though still recognisably batarian.

The man's face came into view, and he looked almost cultured, like a stuffy scholar. "They're attractive by human standards," he began, the tone in his voice making it clear that he didn't share that opinion. "They'll do."

The guard—he must be a guard, she thought—lowered his weapon and stowed it as his back, grabbing Jen by the arm and jerking the pair of them out of the cell.

Without another word from either of the batarians, they began walking down a long hallway, this one looking in far better condition than the cell they'd been put in.

A small part of Maddy was glad that he'd commented on their supposed beauty—obviously they wanted them for something. Which meant that they weren't going to die. Yet.

A chill ran through her and she looked over at Jen, who's eyes were round and filled with fear. She looked as terrified as Maddy felt.

They passed through a door and came into what was a surprisingly lavish room, lit warmly and filled with what was most likely posh batarian furniture.

"You may leave now." the stuffy batarian said to his guard, not even bothering to look at him. The guard bowed and walked out, giving both of them a passing glare with his four black eyes.

Now in proper lighting, Maddy got a better glimpse of the man. His skin was the odd khaki colour that was commonplace for his species, with yellow and black lines running down the back of his head, starting at his scalp and ending about halfway down his skull.

He was dressed in tailored clothing, expensive yet simplistic. His eyes were black and seemed bottomless, but they held a dark intelligence that scared the shit out of her. Quite simply, he looked like a monster in men's clothing.

Both pairs of eyes flicked to them, and he looked almost bored. Raven orbs drifted over the two girls, as if he were measuring their worth. He made a "hmmphf" noise in the back of his throat, walking over to a panel in the wall and opening a door, which showed a large closet, filled with... dresses?

He turned, speaking softly. "You are to pick out a dress and put one on."

She opened her mouth to speak but he cut her off with a sharp hand gesture. "Do as I say. I will be back in twenty minutes. Run and you will be killed." he added, almost offhandedly. With that, he brushed past them, walking out the door.

Now alone, Jen looked over at her, confusion all over her face. "What the heck? We're dressing up?"

Maddy shrugged. "If it keeps us alive, I dinna care. Come on, let's start looking."


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: Oh my god, I actually updated this. Been a while, but don't worry; I'm not dead or anything.

* * *

**Chapter 7: An Unexpected Guest**

The microwave dinged and Tali opened it, seeing a puffed-up bag laying in the centre of the tiny appliance.

Sarika had invited Yinn to sleep over, and they'd built a massive blanket fortress in the living room, the roof of their fabric castle high enough that they could watch movies while in the comfort of their own domain.

_That_ had taken a while. She'd run out of hair clips and other assorted clamps trying to hold everything together, and there were enough pillows inside the tent to stop a bullet.

She pulled out the bag and felt her mouth begin to water as she smelled the salty aroma of the food inside. Shepard had said it looked like a dextro version of popcorn, though she wasn't exactly sure what popcorn was.

Thoughts of her husband made her heart sink a little. He'd only been gone a few days and she already missed him like crazy. She was grateful for the distractions that Sarika provided, as it usually kept her mind occupied.

Worry crept in, along with a touch of fear. She hoped he was okay. He'd told her what he, Hackett and his mother were doing, but that knowledge hardly put her mind at ease.

"Mama! It's starting!"

She was jerked from her thoughts to see Sarika's head poke out from the blankets through the living room doorway, hair fuzzy from the static of the soft material.

She smiled. "I'll be right there."

Tali quickly filled three small bowls with "popcorn" and brought it over to the tent, opening the fabric doors with a foot.

She ducked inside, handing Sarika and Yinn their food and getting settled next to them, the fort dark except for the light of the vid-screen.

Sarika snuggled close, munching on her food, eyes eagerly glued to the screen. Yinn was slightly more reserved, not knowing Tali that well, and settled back against her own pillows, chowing down contentedly.

They were watching the new Blasto movie. It hadn't been Tali's first choice on the list of movies even slightly appropriate for children, but both girls wanted to see it, and so Tali smiled to herself when she heard the tacky music of the opening credits play.

It was highly entertaining, listening to Blasto arrogantly rhyme off his multiple achievements, each one sounding more and more like Shepard's past accomplishments than the last.

She noticed that the movie was eerily similar to the Normandy crew's campaign to stop the Reapers, with Blasto flying off to Tuchanka to cure the Genophage and rush to the Citadel to stop an assassination attempt on the Council. Blasto had taken on crew members in this film as well, which all resembled Shepard's team quite closely. It was a lawsuit waiting to happen.

Sarika and Yinn loved it, though. They gasped at every plot twist and got angry whenever the bad guys showed up on screen. Although the main theme of the film was quite dark, it seemed that the screen writers wanted to appease a wider market, and so the violence was comical at best.

Tali smiled through the whole thing, giggling with the two girls and making fun of the characters they didn't like. She wondered what Shepard would think of it.

By the time the film was done, both girls were passed out, snoring softly into the mound of pillows they both lay on.

She smiled down at her daughter, smoothing her hair. Sarika seemed to lean into her hand and snuggled closer, making Tali's smile widen.

She leaned back against her own pillows, making sure the blankets covered up both girls, and drifted off to sleep, empty popcorn bowls forgotten at their feet.

* * *

Into the dragon's den, as they say.

Shepard adjusted the collar of his uniform again, trying hard to keep the frown off of his face. Once this mission was done, he was burning the damn thing.

His fidgeting didn't go unnoticed by his mother, who he could see grinning faintly at him out of the corner of his eye. He silently damned her for taking pleasure in watching her own son be tortured by clothing.

They were in an Alliance shuttle, flying towards the ship that the party would be held on. It was an old storage ship, turned into a luxury cruiser for stuffy political affairs. It was called _Traveller's Peace_, and the irony was certainly not lost on him.

His mother and Hackett were speaking quietly, likely going over the plan, if it could even be called that. They had to be polite to everyone, enjoy the evening, and hope not to get shot or stabbed if and when the shit hit the fan.

Shepard kept to himself, his fingers running over his breast pocket, where Tali's picture was. He'd kept it with him throughout the years as a sort of good luck charm. It still had the speckles of blood and dirt on it when he'd had it with him after the Crucible fired, the one thing keeping him going during those dark hours of his life.

His heart ached when he thought of her and Sarika. Just two days, and he already couldn't wait to get home. He hoped to God that capturing this batarian would be easy, even as he smiled at himself for such a naive wish. If there was one thing he'd learned in his military career, it was that whatever assignments he'd been given, no matter how small, were never easy.

The shuttle shook faintly as they entered _Peace_'s mass effect fields. Hackett and Hannah looked up from their conversation, gazes drawing over to Shepard.

"You ready?" his mother asked, raising a brow. He chuckled.

"Let's go catch this bastard."

* * *

The main hall of the ship was quite lavish, with elegant dark furniture positioned around coffee tables and ottomans, warm lighting from intricate chandeliers hanging from high ceilings, and four individual bars.

They even had human employees. Not that he was expecting aliens, but rather VIs; virtual intelligence left little reason for people to waste money paying flesh and blood clientele.

Their trio were one of the first to arrive, and so he had a good view of the room before it was crowded with people. He smoothed a hand across a table in passing and frowned when he noticed it was polished wood instead of a more modern brushed steel; wood wasn't great at stopping mass accelerator rounds.

Shepard scanned his surroundings, eyes searching for good defensible positions. There weren't any, really; the room was one big, open affair, with only low tables and fabric furniture to hide behind.

He found something, finally. A large dining table at the back of the room, separating the main area from its place near the back. That could be promising, and he'd make sure to have a clear path to it when the time to pull out a gun came up.

Not that he had a gun. The Alliance carrying weapons around on their own ground during a peaceful gathering would not favour them in a nice light on the galactic news. And even if this mission wasn't really about swapping dry conversation with politicians, he had to make sure that if anything happened at this party, the batarians had to take the biggest fall in the news. If they didn't, it could mean big trouble for the Alliance.

He sighed. Nothing was ever simple.

* * *

The dress she wore was a deep, earthy green, cutting off at her knees. She had dark heels on that made her four inches taller, and her hair was pulled up in a soft bun, red curls tumbling elegantly down her back.

Stuffy the Batarian—he still hadn't told her his name—had given both her and Jen the rundown of what they'd be doing at the party. He'd given them fake IDs to impersonate the luxury ship's clientele, both of them acting as waitresses to pass out drinks and such. They were to listen closely to whatever any of the human politicians were speaking about, an earpiece recording everything and sending it to him.

And when the timer on their omni-tools reached zero, the explosive device attached to timer at their wrists would explode.

She took calming breaths, closing her eyes. She'd be dead in three hours. Sooner if she or Jen tried to run or ask for help.

Maddy didn't know what to do. If she told one of the human politicians, Stuffy would hear and explode the device immediately. If not, then she'd just die when the timer counted to zero.

She thought of her brother, and her mam. She silently told them that she loved them, clenching her teeth to keep from crying.

She heard a shaky breath beside her, and opened her eyes to see Jen staring at the floor, eyes watering and hands shaking.

She reached out a hand, grasping the smaller girl's firmly. Maddy wanted to say something to calm her down, calm both of them down, but what could she possibly say?

"I'm scared." Jen whispered, looking at her. Her dark, almond-shaped eyes held fear and regret.

"I am too." Maddy whispered back, sitting down on the bench behind her. They were in a small waiting room that broke off from the main hall of the ship, and soon they would go outside, smile and swap conversation with the politicians as if their biggest concern was what drink to serve the guests.

"I didn't tell my parents I loved them the day our ship was attacked." Jen said, staring at the floor again. "I can't... I don't remember the last time I did." she let out a shaky breath, hands balling into fists so tightly that her knuckles turned bone-white.

Maddy looked down at her own hands, tracing the freckles across her knuckles. "I don't, either."

_"The guests are here. Proceed into the main hall."_

They both jumped at the voice, looking at each other.

"You ready?" Jen asked.

Maddy stood up, smoothing her dress and patting her hair. "No."

"Me neither."

* * *

She'd never seen anything like it.

The tension in the hall was a physical thing, weighing down its occupants and prohibiting any natural dialogue to be swapped between the two species' politicians.

She and Jen quietly wandered the hall, always staying in eye sight of one another. Maddy spotted Stuffy from time to time, talking dryly with his fellow batarians. And never with humans.

There was a bit of intermingling, but that was rare. The room was mostly made up of pockets of people from either species, standing in a small ring, as if to protect themselves from the aliens speaking not two feet away from them.

Maddy wasn't sure what this gathering was for, but she could tell it wasn't going well.

_"Do not stop waiting on people. I want to hear the humans talking."_ Stuffy's voice echoed in her ear, making her hasten her step and resisting the urge to nod at the command.

She grabbed a tray from one of the bars, being careful not to make eye contact with the bar man.

The clientele looked at them oddly whenever they spotted her or Jen. One waiter even stopped Maddy and asked her who she was, and she stammered out a quick "I'm new here" and hurried on.

She walked up to a circle of human politicians, their faces looking simultaneously bored and anxious.

"... isn't going well." she heard one begin. "I haven't spoken to a single batarian tonight, and I've been here for over an hour already."

She swallowed hard at the mention of time. Two hours. She shut off the part of her mind that whirled with half-ass dreams of escape and put on her best smile. If she won over some of the people here, maybe they could help somehow.

"Would ye like anythin', sirs?" she asked, a little too loudly.

A few turned to look at her, surprised. The one that had been talking, a dark man with startlingly green eyes, smiled faintly at her.

"Aren't you a little young to be serving alcohol, young lady?"

She concentrated on not balling her hands into fists, smiling warmly. "I'm short for my age. Would ye like anythin'?" she repeated.

The man raised a brow but didn't argue further. "I suppose I'll have a whiskey. MacAllan, if you have it."

She nodded, asking the others, who all declined. Walking back to the bar, she clenched her teeth.

The man had used a small, condescending voice when asking her about her age, as adults were wont to do. She was old enough to have responsibilities, but wasn't considered truly intelligent or worth listening to until she reached adulthood.

She certainly wasn't going to ask for his help.

She felt a hand grab her arm suddenly and she flinched, beginning to pull away.

"It's just me!" Jen said, eyes bright.

"What th' hell do ye want, then?" she asked, a little testily, heart beating frantically in her chest at the sudden contact.

Jen jerked her head over to the left, her gaze excited. "There's a lot of interesting people here tonight. I didn't know Commander Shepard would be here!"

Maddy's eyes widened as she spotted him, almost dropping the tray. Her mind raced with thoughts of freedom, of asking him for help. If there was anyone who could get them out of here alive, it was him.

"Aye, that's... interesting." she stammered, feet mechanically beginning to move as she walked towards him.

* * *

Shepard wondered if it was possible for a gaze to physically kill someone, as he had about four or five of such looks directed at him.

The batarians never said anything to him directly, but he could feel them glaring daggers at his back whenever he moved.

A dark part of his mind told him that he deserved nothing less than open hostility after what he'd done to these people, but that didn't do much to put him at ease.

He had found a somewhat friendly batarian and had eagerly begun speaking to the man, trying to glean any insight on what the exact opinion the species had of him. It was unpleasant, to say the least.

While speaking with the only non-hostile batarian in the room, he noted with amusement that his mother was watching the room's occupants menacingly. Fierce blue eyes scanned the room like a hawk, daring anyone to take a swing at her son. He was over forty years old and she was still just as protective of him as she was when he was in diapers.

Hackett seemed to be having better luck in the conversational department, and looked to be enjoying speaking to a few reserved-looking batarians over by one of the bars. It appeared that their hostility had moved somewhat away from humans in general to Shepard specifically. Good for the other politicians, though not so much for him.

"You look nervous, Commander." the man he was talking to said, making him smile humourlessly.

"Indeed. It seems that I'm not very popular tonight. Not that I don't deserve it." he added, eyes flicking around the room. He needed to find out who and where Kargesh was in order to pay close attention to the man's movements. Of course, he couldn't ask bluntly; the man was a nobody to the Alliance, and revealing that he knew the man's name would not be wise.

The batarian laughed. "A lot of my colleagues have not forgotten the Alpha Relay incident."

Shepard took a sip of his drink, feeling the pleasant burn of strong liquor down his throat and settle in his stomach. "Some are more hostile than others." he said, prodding the conversation in the direction he wanted and was pleased with the outcome.

The man nodded. "Yes. Kargesh, I believe his name is, lived on Aritoht before, and his family as well. You'll likely want to stay away from him; he does not speak highly of you."

Shepard nodded, making sure to keep his expression neutral. "Actually, if you could point him out to me, I'd greatly appreciate it. I think, maybe, that talking to him may be prudent to a better relationship between the Hegemony and the Alliance in future dealings."

The batarian's demeanour seemed to shift with that question, and the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. He was on thing ice now.

"I don't think that's a good idea. I can guarantee that the exchange will not help matters in the slightest." the man replied, eyes now cautious.

Shepard raised a brow, acting surprised at the man's reaction. "Then could you at least point the man out so that I can make sure to keep my distance?"

The batarian's jaw clenched. "No need. He will stay far away from you, Commander. You can count on that."

"Can I get ye anythin' to drink, sir?"

Shepard was about to reply when he heard the voice behind him and turned at it, an old memory pulling at him in the back of his mind. The Irish lilt was familiar.

He looked down at the girl speaking, taking another sip of his drink.

The teen looked to be too young to be serving drinks. Her skin was a pale white, with freckles dotting her cheekbones and nose. She would have been quite pretty if not for the jagged—

Air and alcohol met in his windpipe and he choked, glass spilling onto his shirt as he coughed into his hand. As Shepard tried desperately to catch his breath, he saw the blurred form of Maddy smile at him through watering eyes.

* * *

Don't you just love cliffhangers? I know I do. The next chapter will likely come out quick, though—I'm very excited to write it.


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: WELL WOULD YOU LOOK AT THAT

I FINALLY UPDATED MY STORY

And I totally don't regret saying that this chapter would come out soon and then lie completely. Well, maybe a little.

So... super violent chapter, because I said that this story would be really fluffy and nothing but quarian babies.

Basically this whole story is a lie.

But enjoy, if you like that kind of stuff.

But seriously, this chapter is pretty violent. It will get fluffy later on, I promise, but for now, it's action-packed.

* * *

**Chapter 8: Shitstorm**

Once he began to regain control of his lungs, Shepard wiped at his watering eyes, staring dumbstruck at Maddy. Her bright eyes were filled with fear and excitement, and it confused the absolute shit out of him.

He coughed again, frowning down at his uniform and feigning ignorance. "Jesus, I'm clumsy. Could you direct me to the nearest washroom, miss?"

She nodded, hurrying away in a seemingly random direction. With a passing hard look at the batarian he'd been speaking to and a muttered comment to his mother of how he'd be back in a minute, he hurried after Maddy, wiping at the jacket of his uniform. Now he was seriously going to burn it.

She veered away from the main hall and he followed her down a narrow hallway, with only a few people present and none of them paying attention to either of them.

She stopped at a restroom and opened the door, motioning for him to go inside. "There ye are, sir."

As he stepped inside he noticed that she followed him in quickly, locking the door. He turned, raising a brow.

"What—"

"I'm only here to offer help, sir." she said hurriedly and tapped at her ear. He nodded, the realisation hardly surprising him; they could not talk openly—people were listening.

He turned to the sink, turning on a tap and grabbing a towel to wipe at his jacket. Maddy walked over and stood next to the sink, eyes now wide with fear and sweat trickling down her brow. She swallowed, grabbing a napkin and taking a pencil from her pocket and began to write on the flimsy paper.

She was done in a moment, and shoved it over to him. His eyes widened when he saw what was on it.

_**BOMB**_

He looked over at her, and he could see her shaking.

"I was wondering how long this party will be lasting." he said casually. "It seems the guests are already beginning to wind down."

"Tw-two hours, sir." she said, clenching her teeth. She raised her arm, motioning to the omni-tool band at her wrist. He saw a small, clear device attached to it.

He nodded, giving her a significant look. "I'll be sure to use my time wisely, then."

Now somewhat satisfied with the appearance of his jacket, he dried his hands and laid one on her shoulder, squeezing and giving her a reassuring look. She bit her lip and suddenly latched onto him, her arms hugging him so tightly he felt his ribs creak.

He heard a banging at the door and the console suddenly turned green.

"I'm very sorry, sir, I'm not sure why this door was locked—" two men appeared as the door opened, and Shepard froze. His jacket was askew from rubbing at it, Maddy was hugging him in the middle of the men's bathroom, and the door had been locked.

It looked about as bad as he could imagine.

"What the..." the politician, a dark man, looked on at the spectacle in the room, watching Shepard quickly detach Maddy from his form.

"Commander, is this..." the man trailed off. "But your wife—"

Shepard lunged, pulling the both of them inside and throwing them into the wall. A part of his mind asked him what the fuck he thought he was doing, but he shoved it away.

They hit the wall with a small "oomf" of breath, the two of them glaring at him. The dark man looked over his shoulder and his bright eyes widened, even more anger pooling in them.

"Hey!" the dark man said, pointing an accusing finger over Shepard's shoulder at Maddy. "You're the woman who took my order. I still haven't gotten my drink!" he smirked suddenly, giving Shepard a sly glance. "Though I suppose I know why now."

"I-I'm sorry, I'll get ye—"

"No, you won't," the employee who had unlocked the door said. "You don't work here. I checked."

"I do! I have ID and everythin'!" she said frantically. She looked over at Shepard, her lips moving to silently form the word 'help' and pointed to the device at her wrist.

He suddenly put two and two together. Communicator at her ear and bomb at her wrist. The batarian was listening. And Shepard could guarantee that the man must not like what he was hearing.

He bolted from the room, sprinting down the hallway. He could here the men calling out behind him.

He made it into the main hall. Jumping over a bar, he grabbed a knife under the counter and hurried into the crowd. People gasped and backed away from him. He looked around frantically. How the fuck was he supposed to find Kargesh in this sea of batarians? An idea suddenly came to mind.

"Kargesh!" he roared, looking around. A batarian looked up at his name by reflex, and he could see the man's arm raised and omni-tool aglow.

He cocked his arm back and threw the knife, watching it bury itself into the batarian's forearm, omni-tool dimming with the impact. His mind vaguely cheered at the fact that his aim was still good.

The man howled and people began to scream. He heard a gun open fire and the room's occupants all started to duck under tables and furniture.

Kargesh began to sprint away, and Shepard pursued, feeling his biotics flare. He reached out a hand and felt azure shoot out to wrap around the man's feet. He tumbled to the ground amidst the chaos of his fellow batarians shooting rounds into anything that moved, and Shepard felt a few strike against his barrier.

He leapt onto the man, knee digging savagely into his stomach and trying to grab ahold of the batarian's bloody wrist, knife still buried in it.

"Stay still," he growled, arms pinning the man down. Kargesh bucked in his grip, howling again as Shepard twisted the knife.

He tore the man's omni-tool band off and jumped away, looking around for a weap—

He was shoved viciously by an unseen force, and he slid across the polished floor, head banging into a table a few feet away from Kargesh.

_Why the fuck is everyone a goddamn biotic?_

A hand went to his collar and the batarian shoved a knee into his stomach, knife held in his good hand.

"The band." he said, mouth a snarl. "Give it to me."

"Go to hell."

* * *

Everything was a massive shitstorm, and her son was—of course—the cause of it.

Hannah was crouched behind one of the bar counters, a broken bottle in hand. Hardly an ideal weapon, but she didn't have a gun and most of the knives had been taken by batarians or scared guests.

She peaked around the corner to see John on the floor, Kargesh's knee digging into his stomach and the both of them wreathed in blue energy. Her heart clenched when she saw they were fighting for the knife, blade inches away from her son's throat.

She wanted desperately to get to him, but bullets whizzed by overhead as the batarians open fired at random, sending glass, chunks of wood, and stuffing from couches flying everywhere. People were running and screaming, ducking behind anything solid enough to stop a bullet. Some lay on the floor, blood slowly pooling around them, realising too late that their choice of cover had been a bad one.

A shitstorm, indeed.

She heard an explosion and her attention jerked back to her son, who had sent the batarian on top of him flying through the air, making a wicked smile curve at her lips, the sight of the flailing batarian filling her with a sort of dark glee. That would teach the fucker to mess with her son.

He jumped up from his position on the floor, seeming to look around for something. His eyes met hers and he ran over to her, sliding clumsily next to her beside the counter.

"What the hell is going on?" she whispered furiously, frowning at the cut on his cheek. His eyes were bright with adrenaline, but his voice was unnervingly calm when he spoke.

"There's a bomb planted on one of the waiters, maybe more. It's meant to go off in two hours or so, but it can be activated manually." he held a small, clear wrist-band in his arm, the capacitor for an omni-tool. He looked up at her, brow raised.

"How're your bomb-defusing skills, Admiral?"

She smiled. "A little rusty—" they ducked as a bullet struck the top of the counter, sending chunks of marble raining down on them. "But I think I can manage." she finished, scooting closer to him.

He shoved the band into her palm. "I'll be right back."

"No, what are you—John!" He vaulted over the counter, sprinting away.

"Idiot," she muttered. Looking down at the band in her hand, she turned it on and began the search for the bomb program, leaning back against the counter and bringing her knees up to her chest, hoping no saw her.

* * *

Maddy heard screaming and gunfire from her stance in the middle of the men's washroom, and terror almost sent her to her knees, wondering how long she had left to live.

The waiter and the politician's eyes widened, both of them looking at her as if she was the one responsible.

"Dinna look at me! I havena done anythin'!" she yelled, voice echoing harshly around the metal walls of the room.

She heard something like a biotic explosion boom in the main hall, making her shudder. Biotics scared the hell out of her; anyone with the power to rip people apart with their minds were on her list of Dangerous Weirdos to Stay Away From.

Her mind began to race, and her chest tightened in fear when she thought of Jen. Maddy had lost sight of her when she'd rushed over to Shepard, and she idly wondered if her friend was still alive.

She looked back at the two men, arms held in a confused manner. "What're we going to do? We canna go back out there." she gestured to the door.

The politician shrugged. "The best course of action would be to lock ourselves in here, I suppose. They'd warned us that something like this might happen—"

"Warned? Who warned you?" she asked, dumbstruck at the new information.

The politician suddenly looked sheepish. "Hackett. He told us that he'd been informed of a possible attack tonight."

Her hands balled into fists and rage boiled inside her. "You _knew?_ Ye knew that there were people in danger, and ye yelled at me for no' gettin' yer feckin' drink?" her accent grew thicker with anger and she took a few steps towards him. "Why didn't ye warn the staff, or anybody? Ye thought ye'd keep this to yerself? I've got a bomb strapped to my wrist, and you don't think tha's worth warnin' people about?"

The man's mouth moved silently, words struggling to reach his lips. "I... well, we weren't... weren't sure about it. Just a hunch."

Maddy wasn't a violent person, but the urge to break the man's nose was strong enough that her arm shook with the effort to keep it at her side.

Stumbling could be heard in the hallway, interrupting her interrogation, much to the politician's relief. She glared at him and crept towards the door, wondering if it was Shepard—

The console turned green and the doors slid open. A hand roughly grabbed her arm and she stumbled out of the bathroom. The scent of alien blood filled her nose and she looked up to see Stuffy holding her, black eyes shining with an expression that wasn't the least bit sane or civilised.

"Let me go!" she tugged viciously on her arm, adrenaline coursing through her and flooding her with the overwhelming urge to flee.

"Hey! Leave her alone!" The politician rushed out of the restroom and grabbed onto the batarian's wrist, which looked to be injured and bleeding profusely.

What happened next made her wonder later why she hadn't vomited from the gruesome sight. The batarian pulled his wrist from the man's grasp, then extended it forward once more, blue slithering up and down his arm. A concentrated bolt hit the politician right in the face, and his head split like an overripe fruit. Brain matter and blood sprayed, covering her face and arms and dress. The body fell to the ground, grotesquely graceful for a corpse, crimson pooling around the neck and spilling across the metal floors.

For a moment she stood in shock, mind shutting down. When she began to notice the drops of blood budding at the ends of her eyelashes and felt something wet and slimy in her hair, her body started to shake uncontrollably and she would've fallen to the ground if Stuffy hadn't been holding her.

She saw the waiter look down at the body, eyes wide. He didn't move, didn't even look like he was breathing.

Stuffy suddenly tugged on her arm, pulling her back towards the main hall. Her voice returned to her and she started to scream, high and constant and bloodcurdling, thrashing in his grip. Maddy's heels snapped from her frantic movements and she fell to the ground, sliding on the metal and smearing herself with blood.

"No! No no no!" she kicked at him, foot connecting with the flesh of his leg, then his knee, then his groin. Her free arm scrabbled on the ground for purchase, nails tearing against the unforgiving steel and blood filling the undersides of her fingernails.

"Shut up!" he yanked her off the ground by the arm, and she felt her shoulder socket pop painfully. She screamed and sobbed, free arm flailing and beating on his chest. Rage filled her when she saw that her hits didn't seem to do anything to the batarian and she yanked on the arm in his grip, blood and sweat making her wrist slippery.

Their was a flurry of motion and she was suddenly on the ground. She looked up through bloodied, matted hair, seeing a figure wreathed in azure standing in the hallway. The man's eyes flicked to her and she sobbed again, crawling away.

A hand on her shoulder and Maddy started screaming and thrashing again, back against the wall and fingers clawing at the air, trying to get away.

There was shouting, and the grasp on her shoulders was impossibly strong. She curled inwards, pulling her arms over her head and wishing that all the noise would stop and that she didn't have blood all over her and that god-awful grip on her—

"Maddy! Jesus, stop! It's me!" she looked up through her hair and arms to see Shepard, blue eyes almost glowing. Blood flecked at his features but he looked strangely calm.

She felt her body go lax and she stilled on the ground, face pressing into the metal beneath her, warmed by her frantic clawing.

"It's alright." he said softly. "The bomb's being defused and—"

He flew away from her, and she watched him slam into the opposite wall, steel giving under the force of his body.

He slid to the ground, coughing and wiping at his mouth.

A snarled, guttural oath called out behind her, and she looked up to see Stuffy staggering towards the Commander, arm stretched out and fingers crackling with energy.

Shepard dove at the man, hitting him right in the stomach and sending them both sliding across the floor. He threw a punch at the batarian, who shoved him away, elbowing Shepard in the face.

They yanked one another off the ground, grabbing at the other's throat and arms and throwing in punches whenever possible. It was difficult to see what was happening; they moved so quickly that their motions were almost blurred, and azure blazed around them, swirling and popping when their fields came into contact with one another. Blood and dirt was picked up by the blue energy, and gave the impression of a building storm.

Shepard sent a field towards Stuffy, making him stumble back long enough for the Commanded to catch his breath. He looked over at her, urgency in his gaze.

"Run!"

She leaned on the wall, sliding up it clumsily and smearing blood over the metal. Se kicked off her broken heels, silently damning whoever the hell invented such god-awful footwear, and ran. Slime and blood squished beneath her toes but she paid it no mind, adrenaline taking over and guiding her towards safety. Or what she thought was safety.

She practically flew into the main hall, then immediately ducked under a table when she saw a handful of batarians stalking around the room, all holding pistols.

She saw a woman sitting next to her, shaking and sobbing into her hand. The woman looked up to see Maddy crouching next to her, and when she caught sight of the red sprayed on her clothes and in her hair, she started screaming.

Maddy heard feet pounding on steel floors and realised that the batarians would kill them as soon as they reached their hiding place. Panicked, she jumped out of cover and darted towards a torn-up couch twenty feet away.

The batarian running towards them saw her fleeing and raised his gun with a snarl. She covered her head with her arms in a futile attempt to protect herself from a bullet when she heard a gurgle. Sliding behind the couch, she saw the batarian on the ground, knife in his throat.

Her eyes widened and Maddy looked up to see a grizzled man glaring at the body. He looked over at her, and she realised that it was Admiral Hackett, the face of the Alliance. She jerked her head gratefully in his direction and crawled further behind the couch.

She sat still for a moment, mind racing and wondering if what she'd just seen was real.

She thought of Jen again and said a horrible word under her breath, wondering where her friend was. It would be suicidal to call out to her, but she couldn't peak around the furniture without being seen.

Another wave of gunfire went off and she heard screaming to her right. The sound of people dying filled her ears and she clamped her hands to her head, trying to block out all the noise. She began to shake again, and a far away part of her mind told her that sitting still for any length of time was not a good idea.

The sound of fighting in the hallway died down, and she heard a howl of pain. And it wasn't from Stuffy.

The batarian walked into the main hall, and she cowered into the fabric of the couch. He looked around, then called out in a guttural language that her translator didn't pick up.

The gunfire stopped and she wondered what was going on, but didn't dare move. Footsteps echoed in the large room and it seemed that the violence was coming to an end.

Stuffy's four black eyes flicked around the room, and his gaze locked on something. He pointed at something she couldn't see and yelled in that disturbing language again.

Maddy heard kicking and screaming somewhere in the hall, and realised that the sounds were being made by Jen.

"No! Let me go!" she heard feet scrabble against metal and Maddy sobbed into the back of her hand, biting at the skin to keep quiet. Fear froze her in place, but she wanted to help, to do _something_.

She wondered where Hackett was, and what happened to Shepard. Why weren't they helping?

Jen screamed again and her whole body tensed at the noise, muscles restraining the urge to jump up and see what was happening.

The batarians were talking to one another, gravelly voices and harsh tongue making them sound like monsters.

"Hey!" she heard someone call out, much like the dead politician had earlier. "Stop! Why are you doing this?"

A gunshot rang out and she bit her thumb so hard she tasted blood. A thud, then silence.

Jen began to sob and Maddy heard her thrashing in someone's grip. But no one else called out.

A harsh order from Stuffy, and footsteps rang out as the batarians spread around the room. They were looking for her now.

She rocked in place, knees to her chest and forehead resting on them. She didn't want to die. She wanted to see her mother again, and Ian. Oh god, she didn't want to die.

Longs moments ticked by as the batarians searched, and she felt the almost irresistible urge to jump up and run again. Anything but sitting here doing nothing.

She began screaming when someone grabbed a hold of her arm and yanked her upwards, and she shook so hard her vision was blurry. They dragged her over towards Jen, who was still sobbing and thrashing.

She looked up to see her friend tied to a column that supported the hall's massive ceiling, eyes wide and makeup smeared across her face.

Maddy was practically thrown towards the column and she bumped into Jen. A moment later she felt her arms being tied with rope and she pulled at her restraints in a vain attempt to get away, even though she knew how pointless the action was.

Now standing at the column, she had a limited view of the hallway, and saw Shepard lying on the ground, arm bent at an odd angle. His head moved a little and he looked up, blue eyes meeting hers. They were filled with pain, and an anger that made the civilised friend she knew look more animal than man.

She saw him heave himself away from the ground, broken arm held tight against his side. He stumbled to his feet, leaning heavily against the wall.

His uniform was covered in blood. His own, Stuffy's, and the blood from the politician's spilled across the floor painting grisly smears on his clothing. His good arm raised towards the batarians standing around the column, limb shaking with the effort to hold it upwards. Blue began to form around his palm and he raised his arm further, pointing at a chandelier hanging above a few of the batarians.

She heard cables and chains snap and the men looked up, black eyes wide. The fancy metal of the chandelier came crashing down in a flurry of tinkling glass. Most dove out of the way, but the glass flew everywhere and shards imbedded themselves into furniture, the carpets, and the flesh of some unlucky batarians.

The distraction seemed to act as a signal, and she saw a few human politicians pop up from cover, hurling broken glass, bits of marble from the countertop, and even a few knives.

Batarians fell to the ground howling when their make-shift weapons sunk into their bodies, the luckier ones scattering and firing blindly towards the politicians.

The back and forth almost reminded her of a bloody, dark version of a snowball fight, and Maddy bit on her tongue to keep from laughing hysterically, adrenaline and shock making her go slightly insane.

She saw humans dive for the weapons of fallen batarians from her captive position at the column, grabbing the pistols and shooting at the ones fleeing.

"They're headed for the shuttles!" she heard a woman yell from somewhere begin her. Gunshots rang out and she saw a few people pursue the fleeing batarians.

Maddy suddenly sagged against the column, and she felt lightheaded. She looked over at Jen almost lazily, and saw her shaking uncontrollably. Maddy wanted to comfort her, but stars appeared in front of her eyes and an inky blackness encroached at the edges of her vision, and a moment later she slumped in her bonds, unconscious.

* * *

He heard yelling in the distance, as if everything was very far away. His vision kept blurring and going unfocused, and it was a struggle to stay awake.

His arm was in agony, his shoulder dislocated and forearm broken. Kargesh had stabbed him with... something. Not a knife.

His cheek was stuck to the ground by sweat and blood, and the smell of rusty crimson swarmed his senses.

His mind drifted, and Tali's face came up, as it always did whenever he was injured. The thought of her yelling at him for being so stupid made a smile tug at his lips. He had to stay awake.

"John! Oh Jesus, John. Oh God!" he heard his mother's voice and saw feet running towards him from his view of the floor. Someone slid next to him and he felt hands on his face, and his line of sight suddenly jerked towards her face. Strands of her auburn hair had escaped its neat bun, and her blue eyes wear wide with terror.

"Honey, look at me. Yes, stay awake. Jesus." he saw her eyes moisten and she looked up, features hardening.

"I need a med-kit!" she barked, voice turning commanding and almost harsh. She looked back down at him, and she smiled wobbly.

"Did..." he began, wincing at the pain that shot through his abdomen from the movement of speaking. "Did you catch him?"

She shook her head. "No, he got away. And don't talk." she swallowed, thumbs stroking his cheek. "Jesus."

He must look pretty bad if she was reacting like this; his mother had always been calm and collected when he'd been hurt as a child, her serenity keeping him from panicking.

He smiled at her, eyes twinkling. "I'm okay. Been... been worse than this." he said, trying not to laugh. "Believe me."

She rolled her eyes. "I know that, idiot. I was at your funeral, remember?" he lost the battle and chuckled, then groaned in pain. Humour fled her eyes and concern replaced it. "Now stop trying to make me feel better. Just keep still." she looked up, eyes flicking around. "Get me a fucking med-kit!"

He bit his lip to keep from laughing, but he suddenly remembered something. "Where—"

"Shh."

He shook his head, glaring at her. "Maddy?" he asked.

She looked confused for a moment, then looked up at something in the room and understanding filled her eyes. "You mean the girls tied to the column? We got them down, and they're being treated for injuries as we speak."

He nodded. "Bomb?"

She smiled faintly. "My training seems to have held. I got them defused, and the devices have been spaced."

His chest loosened its worried grip and he closed his eyes, feeling exhausted.

"Jonathan, don't you dare go to sleep. I need you awake. Your wife and Sarika need you to stay awake."

He opened his eyes again, grinning faintly. "Just closing my eyes. I'm... I'm okay."

A hand came into view, holding a med-kit. His mother took it with a muttered thank-you and opened it up, searching noisily through its contents.

She brought out medi-gel and slathered it on the stab wound in his side, making him sigh gratefully as the anaesthetic began to quickly take effect.

She pulled up his jacket and taped a bandage to his side, making him grit his teeth when she applied pressure on the wound. His mother looked up at him, eyes sadly amused.

"I need you to sit up. This is going to hurt like a bitch."

He nodded, using his good arm and his mother's assistance to get up into a sitting position, back leaning against the wall. His hissed at the pain from moving and looked over at her, brow raised.

"What... what are you doing?"

"I've got to put your shoulder back in the socket. I can't take care of that broken arm until I do." she grabbed ahold of his bicep. "Brace yourself against the wall and hold still."

He nodded, good hand holding himself static and legs pushing himself hard into the wall.

His mother raised his arm at an angle, grunting a little. "Jesus, you're heavy. I'm glad you're keeping fit, but..." she smiled at him. "Okay, hard part now. This'll hurt a little."

He laughed tiredly, wincing. "Doesn't it always?"

She suddenly heaved, pushing his arm upwards at an angle and trying to get it back into the socket. He grit his teeth, breath escaping in a pained hiss.

After a brutal moment he felt a pop as his shoulder reattached and he sagged against the wall, sighing gratefully. His shoulder suddenly felt fine besides a bit of swelling, and the lack of pain made him smile faintly.

She laughed at his almost serene expression. "Now to splint your arm, and we can leave."

* * *

Maddy say curled in her seat in the shuttle, staring at the ground.

She'd unfortunately woken up from her fall into oblivion, and now she had to sit in a cramped space full of injured people while her mind raced with bloody images of the dead politician.

Jen had passed out from the pain in her leg, which currently had a substantial bullet wound in it. She was envious of her friend's current unconscious state, but was glad at least one of them was at peace.

"John, don't—"

"It's water. I think I can handle it."

She looked over to see Shepard leaning heavily against a bench, his mother glaring at him. He had a water bottle in his hand and was smiling faintly. His jacket lay balled up beside him and he only had a white undershirt on, the side of it ripped and soaked with red.

Hannah sighed, sagging into her seat. "Fine. But don't stress your stomach."

He took a swig and she saw him wince at the movement. As if sensing her gaze on him, he looked over at her curled-up form, eyes filled with concern.

"How're you holding up?" he asked gently.

She felt the shaking coming on again and tensed her muscles, breath shuddering out of her. "How are ye so calm?" she asked instead, looking up. Maybe talking would help keep her mind busy.

He shrugged, then swore under his breath. "Used to it, I suppose. I've seen worse things in my career." he said, eyes going a shade darker.

"How do ye not go insane?" she asked, a little too loudly. "How can ye stand it?"

He smiled, dark humour pooling in his eyes. "It's been argued by my crew that I'm already insane." He sobered a little, answering her question more seriously. "A number of ways. A strong drink after a mission tends to help. I don't think your mother would be too angry if I gave you a beer or two." He smiled faintly.

She swallowed, looking at the ground. "If she's still alive."

He put the water bottle down and touched her knee. She looked up, seeing him looking at her reassuringly. "As soon as we get back I'll contact the Alliance and see if they've got any info on your family."

She nodded, eyes blurring with tears. "Thank you." she whispered.

"Anytime."


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: I think I should just start copy/pasting my excuse of being really busy on each chapter that I post, since I'm running out of creative ways to say it.

Although, I suppose this is in itself another way of making that excuse.

Also - thanks a bunch to PariahKing for editing this one for me. It's been a big help.

* * *

**Chapter 9: the Dark**

She wasn't actually sure what she was doing in the mess hall, but she couldn't stand lying in bed for one more second. It was deep into the third shift, and almost all of the ship's occupants were asleep. Maddy was not one of those fortunate people.

She had achieved unconsciousness at one point during the night, but her dreams had been painted with crimson and gory images of the dead, leaving her shaking underneath the blankets in a cold sweat.

She'd been afraid of walking around Admiral Shepard's ship alone, but staying locked in the med-bay was a sure-fire way of making her lose her mind.

She pulled out a chair, flinching at the noise of scraping metal, loud in the silence of the dark room. Slumping down into the seat, she pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, staring at the ground and rocking gently.

She was beginning to hate the night, and the dark that it brought on. It seemed that her brain, when deprived of visual input of her surroundings, conjured up its own source of stimulation. And those images were not pleasant.

She kept seeing the politician's head explode, painting the walls with his own brain, her included.

She'd stood in the shower for an hour after getting onto the Orizaba, frantically clawing at her hair and dousing it with harsh shampoo a dozen times to make sure there was nothing left of the man's skull in her curls.

Jen seemed to be doing okay, though she'd spent most of the evening in the med-bay doped up on pain suppressants. Maddy began to wish she'd been shot in the leg, too. At least then the doctors would have a reason to numb her senses.

"Can't sleep?"

She jumped so suddenly that she almost fell out of her chair, eyes wide with terror and limbs shaking with their tensed state. She looked up to see Shepard, barely visible in the dim light.

"Why would ye—don't do that! Make noise or, or something!" She blew out a breath, shuddering. "Ye scared the shit outta me."

He laughed faintly, stepping fully into the mess. For such a large man, he sure was quiet when he walked, even burdened with his arm taped to his side and bandages wrapped around his torso. She idly wished that she was that agile.

"Sorry. Didn't mean to scare you." He made his way over to the kitchen area, turning on the coffee machine and beginning to pour himself a cup.

"Want one?"

She shook her head, leaning her elbows on the table. "No. I've got enough trouble sleeping as it is." She looked over at him. "Why're you awake?"

He shrugged, leaning against the counter as he waited. "Same as you. Just pissed off that we didn't catch that son of a bitch."

Despite her dark thoughts moments before, she smiled. "Why d'ye talk like that?"

He raised a brow. "Like what?"

"Talk to me like I'm a person. Ye know, swearing and all that."

He laughed. "You are a person, aren't you?"

She rolled her eyes. "Ye know what I mean. Most people dinna ever swear in front of me, like I've never heard a cuss or something."

His eyes lighted in understanding, looking amused. "Fifteen is a crappy age to be." he commented.

"Aye." she agreed darkly.

He laughed, grabbing his coffee and taking a swig. Maddy scrunched her face, looking at his cup. "Doesn't that taste horrible, without cream and sugar?"

He looked down at his drink, smiling. "Yeah, though I'm only drinking it to stay awake, not enjoy it. Black coffee's better for that."

"Why would ye want to stay awake this late at night?"

Another shrug. "I know I won't fall asleep, so starting early with the caffeine'll help to stay awake during the day." He moved over to the table, sitting down heavily in a chair. He looked over at her, eyes growing softer. "Bad dreams?"

Her mouth twisted. "Ye could say that." She blew out a breath, rubbing at her face. "How..." She paused, trying to figure out what to say. "Do ye ever have nightmares?"

He laughed humourlessly, sitting back in his seat. His eyes grew darker, almost black in the poorly illuminated room. "Military life isn't quite as romantic as the media says it is. Spent a lot of nights awake ever since I joined."

She shook her head, staring down at her hands. "Three nights since I was captured and I already think I'm going crazy. How'd ye survive all of those years?"

He scrubbed a hand over his face, stubble rasping faintly under his palm. "There isn't really a good answer. I've tried drink, exercise..." His mouth twisted and he looked at her out of the corners of his eyes, as if weighing whether to say something or not. "... And late night company." He smiled faintly. "They work, for a little while, but they don't solve the problem. Talking about it helps, though it isn't easy or pleasant."

She snickered at his sex comment, but sobered a little when she remembered something. "Ye're still with that quarian woman, Tali?"

He nodded, smile growing a little wider. "Yeah. Been about ten years now."

"Does that help?"

He raised a brow. "Having a loved one to talk to?" She nodded, and his eyes warmed, as if thinking of something pleasant. "Helps a great deal. I don't think I'd have survived the War without her. Though don't tell her I said that." he added, chuckling.

Thoughts of being able to tell her mother and Ian about everything, to gain some form of emotional release, was physically painful to think about, and she shoved any memories of them away for now. She'd try to think about them as little as possible until she found out any information on them.

"Can ye—" She broke off, looking down at her hands once more, now balled into fists. "Can ye teach me how to fight?"

She gazed up at him, and saw a look of mild surprise cross his face.

"Of course." he said after a moment. "When do you want to start?"

She blinked, taken aback at his quick response. "Well, ye canna really teach me anythin' with yer arm broken—"

"I won't be able to practice hand-to-hand combat with you, but I can still help. We can go down to the cargo bay right now, if you want."

* * *

Shepard watched her bounce lightly on her toes, throwing punches at the dummy he'd set up for her.

"Don't let your arms drop; keep your fists near your face. And make sure that your torso is more sideways. Yes, like that. That way your opponent can't see much of your upper body."

She looked back at him, grin on her face. "I like this!" She jabbed at the squishy material of the dummy's midsection, snickering as its plastic head jerked back in response.

He was glad to see her mood had improved, and came to stand beside her, looking down at her feet.

"Keep your stance wider and have more of your weight on your back leg. Make sure your feet are on individual tracks; it's a hell of a lot harder to push you over that way."

They went through long exercises, with Shepard making her repeat each movement or stance several times until she did it without wobbling or hesitating. Although not able to truly demonstrate anything with his arm taped and side burning from the stab he'd taken, Maddy had easily understood his instructions and executed them with a fair amount of grace. A lot of her punches were thrown more widely than they should have been, but she was off to a good start.

He sat down heavily on a crate, wincing at the pain in his abdomen and watching her practise a few combos on a punching bag. Shepard had barely moved around since they'd begun some time ago, only stepping in to offer the occasional suggestion or correction, but his whole right side felt hot and tight, and the bandage pulled uncomfortably on the wound. He could already hear his mother yelling at him.

Maddy huffed, wiping at her brow and looking over at him, grinning tiredly. "I do okay?"

He a forced a smile, gritting his teeth. "You did great, Maddy. We can do this again, of you like."

She nodded, walking over and sitting down on a crate near him. "Aye, we should. Could ye teach me how to use a knife? And a gun?"

He laughed, then hissed sharply and grabbed at his side. "Sure... after I heal."

Her face fell a little when she saw that he was in pain. "We should go back to the med-bay. Ye dinna look too good."

He chuckled at her comment and heaved himself off of his seat, wincing and making his way slowly towards the lift.

They stepped into the elevator, and he suppressed a sigh at its slow ascent. Leaning back against the cool metal walls, he let his muscles relax and closed his eyes, feeling exhausted. He hated that that small amount of exercise made him feel weak, but he supposed that zero sleep and running on one shitty coffee had a lot to do with his heavy lids.

"Thank ye." Maddy said quietly, looking over at him. She seemed to be giving into exhaustion as well, head resting on the wall beside her.

He smiled, opening an eye. "It's no problem. Knowing how to defend yourself is important."

She nodded, looking down at her shoes. "I'm just worried that I'll forget what ye teach me when trouble comes."

"You do, the first few times." he said, and she looked surprised at his honest statement. "You just have to practice enough that it becomes an instinct instead of a skill. Once that happens, _then_ you can perfect it."

Her mouth twisted but she said nothing, thinking about what he'd told her. He had experienced blanking out before early in his career as a soldier, when adrenaline overrode conscious thought and he almost forgot how to throw a punch.

Once he'd gone through that a few times and killing became as instinctual as breathing, fear no longer guided his actions. It disturbed him that he had become that person, someone who could snap a man's neck with the flick of his wrists, but it had kept him and his crew alive, and he supposed that not liking a part of himself was a fair trade off.

The lift dinged and he pushed off the wall, wincing again as he headed down the hallway towards the med-bay. A few painkillers might do him some good.

He noticed that all of the ship's lights were now on, starkly bright in contrast to the dim emergency lights his eyes had grown accustomed to, making Shepard wonder how long they'd been down on the shuttle bay.

"John! There you are. What the hell have you been doing?"

He jerked at the scolding voice, hissing as sharp pain glanced through his side, and turned to see his mother raising an expectant brow at him.

He grinned tiredly. "Showing Maddy how to kill people." He looked over at the small Irish girl, seeing her snicker into her hand.

His mother shook her head. "You're unbelievable. And Jesus, look at your bandages. I can see your side bleeding from here." She snapped her fingers, giving him a stern look. "Come on, into the med-bay."

His first instinct was to argue, simply out of habit that one develops from being ordered around by a parent, but he didn't really have it in him. His abdomen burned, his muscles ached from the fighting yesterday, and it was an effort to keep himself from falling over, exhaustion clouding his brain.

So instead, he followed his mother down the hallway and into the medical bay, hearing Maddy trod tiredly behind him. Glancing up at the ship's clock, he felt a small pang of shock when he saw that it was almost forty five minutes into first shift, meaning that he and Maddy had been down there for almost two and a half hours.

His mother motioned for him to sit on a medical cot the moment he ducked through the door. She was rummaging around the cupboards looking for supplies, muttering something along the lines of regretting ever having a boy under her breath.

Now armed with gauze and medi gel, she stood in front of him, eyeing his tired form with disapproval. "It's like you're incapable of relaxing for five minutes." she remarked, then set the bandages down and snapped her fingers once more. "Take your arm out of the sling—very carefully—and take off your shirt. I need to get at that gash in your side."

His eyes flicked over to Maddy briefly before complying, chest tightening. He didn't like exposing himself to people. It was hardly out of modesty—military life was not known for its private lifestyle—but because he'd always get wide-eyed looks from the plethora of scars he carried on his skin, followed by a series of sympathetic questions and almost pitying looks.

It was never a pleasant experience, and a lot of the scar tissue on his skin were from battles that he would rather never talk about.

Unslinging his arm and carefully pulling off his t-shirt, he tossed it on the cot and stood up, making sure his back was out of Maddy's field of vision. There was one scar in particular that usually brought on nightmares if he spoke about it for a great length of time, one that started at his shoulder and ran all the way down his back.

His mother seemed to take note of his odd stance but said nothing, simply walking up to him and beginning the careful process of unwinding the bandage.

He gritted his teeth when the gauze pulled on the edges of the wound, wincing when his mother pulled the final piece of it off and exposed it to the air.

He heard a gagging sound and looked over to see Maddy ducking her head away from the sight.

He let out a laugh. "Not used to seeing this stuff?"

"No!" she said loudly, covering her eyes with an arm at the sight of his exposed wound. "That's disgusting!" Heading towards the door with her eyes safely averted, she made a passing comment about waiting in the mess until his wounds were properly covered.

He bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing, and saw his mother smiling to herself out of the corner of his eye.

"Sweet girl. I wouldn't have pegged her to be squeamish about blood, though; she seems quite fierce. Now move your arm out of the way, I have to clean this."

"What's our plan n—" he hissed as he felt antiseptic touch the gash, fists clenching in an effort to bear the burning in his side. "Now?" he finished, voice sounding a little strangled.

"You mean for catching that bastard?" his mother asked. "Well, I'm not sure. I know the brass isn't pleased with the way that night went. We've got four dead, a dozen injured, and a bad rep from the 'peaceful' evening. Hackett's trying to get the truth out, but the press isn't being cooperative. The batarians are blaming it on you, and ANN seems to be falling for it."

Shepard's temper flared. "What the hell was I supposed to do, let him blow us all up?"

She shook her head. "Doesn't matter your reasons, John. You threw the first punch, so to speak, so the Alliance will have to get out a lot of video and audio feeds of that night to really hammer out the truth."

"Fucking—" he flinched when his mother pulled on the bandage she was wrapping around his torso, sending white hot pain up his side.

"Politicians?" she finished for him, a small smile on her face.

He said nothing, moving away from her and shoving his shirt back on, ignoring the pain in his arm and shoulder. He heard a sigh behind him.

"You knew going in—"

"I know!" he yelled, glaring at her. "I know we weren't supposed to start anything! But if I hadn't, we'd all be fucking spaced right now, and I'd rather not repeat the experience!" He scrubbed viciously at his face, jaw clenched. "Even after Sovereign, the Collectors, the Reapers—after all of that, and I still have to crawl across glass just to get them to _consider_ that I'm in the right."

His mother appeared to forget that he'd yelled at her with his last comment, eyes softening. "Some people are reluctant to stop seeing you as the crazy madman that prophesied the end of days."

"I—" His mouth twisted, and he sighed. "I know," he said tiredly. "Sometimes I still see it in the mirror, too."

* * *

Tali had seen her husband injured in almost every possible way a person could be. Burnt, shot at, stabbed, bitten, clawed, everything. Over the years she had gotten used to seeing him in various states of injury, and had even begun to expect it.

Yet for some reason, when his form appeared blue and pixelated in the QEC, she was still surprised at what she saw.

"What—Shepard! What did you do?" she asked, wide eyes finding a broken arm in a sling and thick bandages wrinkling beneath his t-shirt.

He grinned, his usual reaction to her concern, which still to this day irritated and baffled her. "Got into a bit of a fight." he said, almost casually.

She sighed, shaking her head. "You..."

"I?" he asked, amused. The bastard was enjoying this.

"Garrus is right; you can't spend five minutes anywhere without someone trying to kill you."

He sobered a little, expression growing darker. "Have you heard anything on the news?"

His seemingly random train of thought confused her, and her brows drew together as she thought back. "No, nothing out of the ordinary. Why?"

He sighed, and Shepard suddenly looked exhausted. "We're in big shit from the Alliance. The... party, I guess you could call, went horrible, and the batarians are pegging it on us." His mouth twisted. "Well, more like me specifically, although they aren't being very kind to the Alliance's image either."

Concern flared, and her expression softened. "What happened, John?" She felt the urge to touch him, to reassure him that everything was all right, but he was painfully out of her reach.

His eyes darkened. "Kargesh planted bombs on some people at the party. I stopped him from blowing the ship up, but..."

Her mind fit the missing pieces together. "You attacked first?"

A sigh escaped him. "If I hadn't, we'd all be dead right now. But because of that, ANN is favouring the batarians' sob story of us being these blood-thirsty savages." He shook his head, a humourless laugh echoing in his throat. "The press sure are quick to turn on their own people when they've got a good story, even an untruthful one."

His "we'd all be dead right now" comment lingered in her mind, and the urge to wrap her arms around him intensified to a painful degree.

"Shepard, please... be careful. When... when are you coming home?" Her voice sounded tight to her own ears, and by the sorrowful look he gave her, he heard it too.

"I don't know. We haven't caught the son of a bitch yet, and we don't even know where he is. But I don't think..." He sighed again, scrubbing a hand over his face. "I don't think it'll be any time soon."

Her heart fell. "I miss you." she whispered.

A sad smile tugged at his lips. "I miss you too. Give Sarika a kiss for me, and I'll be home as soon as I can."

She nodded, eyes stinging. "I love you."

"I love you too."


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: You people know the drill. I'm going to offer some bullshit excuse about real life and that's why this is taking so long in an attempt to apologise for the delay. I applaud you for putting up with my horribly erratic schedule.

I also want to thank said people for all the feedback so far. It's extremely gratifying to know that someone enjoys the stories that I want to tell.

Another shout-out to PK, who helped me make realistically bitchy characters.

* * *

**Chapter 10: Photo Day**

"Ow!"

"Sit still!"

Sarika slumped in her seat and grumpily crossed her arms, glaring at the floor.

It was picture day at school, and Tali was once again reminded of how much her daughter hated having her hair done. She wasn't even sure if she'd be able to force her into a dress.

Tali smoothed the brush over Sarika's soft hair, the sound of the bristles combing through the dark strands soothing to her ears. It apparently didn't have the same affect on the small person slouched in the chair.

"I _hate_ ponytails!"

"Relax. I'm almost done." she pulled her daughter's hair into a pretty clip, pleased with the result. She'd finally got the hang of actually doing something with hair, whether it was her own or Sarika's.

As soon as the brush left her scalp, Sarika bounced off the seat and ran down the hallway into her bedroom, squealing in delight at finally being free from such torture.

Tali sighed and left her and Shepard's room, eyes noticing the absence of her husband's things around the comfortable space and quickly walked into the hall.

She appeared at Sarika's bedroom doorway to find her daughter digging under her bed for something. The small girl emerged a moment later, smiling triumphantly and holding a pair of wrinkled green shorts.

"I wanna wear this!"

"That's where you put those? I told you to put _all_ your laundry in your hamper." Tali shook her head at her daughter. "They're dirty. There's no way you're wearing those."

Sarika's face scrunched up and she crossed her arms. "No."

Still her favourite word, apparently. Tali sighed. "It's picture day, so you've got to wear something nice. Help me pick out a dress for you to wear."

Sarika stayed stock still, arms crossed and chin down, though Tali hardly gave her pouting any notice. Walking over to her closet, she rooted around and found the few dresses her daughter actually owned.

Laying them out on the bed, she eyed Sarika, brow raised. "Come pick what you're going to wear."

Her daughter's mouth twisted, considering her options. She realised full well that she'd get an earful if she didn't cooperate, but the urge to argue was strong.

Tali picked up one dress and pulled up the skirt, revealing more material underneath. "Look, this one isn't even a real dress—it's got shorts." Tali leaned in conspiratorially, whispering. "You can't tell anyone, though; you're supposed to be wearing real dress clothes for photo day."

The thought of keeping something secret enticed Sarika to no end, and she practically jumped into the "dress".

Tali smiled as she watched her daughter giggle and pull up the skirt over and over again, delighted to find a pair of sewn-in shorts underneath. With a promise not to do that at school, they headed out the door.

* * *

She still had a ponytail in her hair, but at least she didn't have to wear real girl clothing.

Watching her mom drive away as she walked into the schoolyard, she found Yinnaia sitting on one of the swings and she sat down next to her. Looking over, Sarika saw that the girl had her light-coloured hair pulled up in a poofy bun and was wearing a pink dress. She didn't seem very happy about it.

"Your parents make you wear dumb stuff too?" Yinn asked, looking over at Sarika, who grinned.

"Yeah. Well, mama did. Dad isn't back yet." She looked down at the grass, shuffling her sandalled feet through the higher stalks. She missed him.

"You said he's getting a bad guy for the All-i-ance, right?"

Sarika nodded. "Yep. Wish he'd hurry up though."

They quieted for a while, watching the other kids arrive. All were dressed in formal wear, the boys in pressed shirts and the girls in pretty dresses.

And on top of the itchy clothing, no one was allowed to play on the jungle gym or play sports. She hoped the pictures would be taken soon so that she could go have fun instead of sitting on a swing.

She looked down at her feet, wiggling her two toes and smiling as she watched a tiny, scaly lizard crawl across the buckles of her sandals. Its small feet stuck to her skin, almost like suction cups, and she giggled when he ran away, tickling her toes.

Her view of her feet darkened as someone stood in front of her, and she looked up to see a girl staring at her, long dark hair flowing down her back and pulled back from her face with elegant clips. Another girl stood behind her, face freshly scrubbed and shoulder-length hair neatly combed.

"I wanna sit there." she said, looking at the swing Sarika sat on. Yinn looked over at her, as if silently asking what they should do.

"But I'm already sitting here. There's a bench over—"

"I don't want the bench. I want your swing." the girl interrupted, crossing her arms and staring down at her.

Sarika narrowed her eyes, frowning back. "No. Go sit on the bench."

The girl suddenly uncrossed her arms and shoved her, sending her tumbling off the swing and landing in the grass.

Her elbow immediately began to sting, and her palms were smeared with dirt and blades of grass. She looked up, seeing the girl sit down on her swing like nothing had happened, back to her.

"Hey!" Yinn said, jumping up from her seat. "You can't do that!"

The other girl shoved Yinn out of the way and sat down, and her eyes watered. "Don't _do_ that!"

Sarika looked down at her elbow, and her eyes widened when she saw a trickle of red among the mud.

She jumped up and pulled on the girl's hair, making her scream. With the pull, she dragged the girl off the swing and watched her land in the grass like Sarika had a moment ago.

The girl looked up at her, rage in her eyes when she saw the smears of mud on her dress. "You ruined my dress!"

"You pulled me off a swing!"

"So? You gonna tell your dumb parents on me?"

"They aren't dumb!"

"Hey! What's going on?"

All four girls turned to see the teacher rushing over to the swing set, and she looked mad. The girl on the ground spoke up first.

"Sarika pushed me off the swing and pulled my hair!"

"After you pushed me off!" she yelled back, looking at the girl.

"I saw it," the other girl said. "Sarika started it."

"No she didn't!" Yinn yelled, hands balled into fists. "You came over here and pushed us off!"

"Enough! All of you, inside." The teacher glared at them, and they all quieted. Sarika stepped past the girl on the ground, glaring at her, and went over to walk beside Yinn. She heard the girl crying behind her as her friend helped her up, and fear began to curl in her belly.

What if the teacher didn't believe her? What if she called home and her mom found out?

* * *

The first thing Tali saw when she walked into the office was her daughter sitting in a seat beside Yinn, fear in her eyes and mud on her dress.

The other girl's mother was also present, who looked disdainfully at Sarika. Tali decided that she didn't like the woman.

The teacher looked up, smiling faintly at Tali and motioning for her to have a seat.

"Thank you for coming. There seems to have been an altercation this morning with these girls."

"Of course." She sat down across from Sarika, noting that she wouldn't meet her eyes. "What happened?"

"I'll let the girls tell you, since I wasn't there. Mellena, why don't you start?"

Mellena, the girl Sarika had obviously fought with, began, eyes misty and dark hair tangled. "I-I was sitting on the swing with Karri, and Sarika and her friend came up a-and—"

"You're lying! That didn't happen!" Sarika said indignantly, glaring across the table at Mellena.

The teacher eyed her sternly. "You can have your turn after, Sarika. Let her finish." The teacher motioned for the girl to continue, and she nodded.

"A-and they pushed us off the swings and took them, and then she started yelling a-at me."

"Poor baby." the girl's mother crooned, stroking her daughter's hair. Tali felt rage bubble up in her chest, but she kept quiet.

The teacher nodded, then motioned to Sarika. "Now you tell us what happened."

Sarika nodded, crossing her arms and staring daggers at Mellena. "Me and Yinn were sitting on the swings talking, and then she—" She pointed at Mellena, "came up to me and told me she wanted to sit on my swing. I said no, go sit on the bench, and then she shoved me off and sat down."

"Then Karri pushed me away and sat on mine," Yinn added.

Sarika nodded. "Then I..." She trailed off, looking down for a moment. The teacher raised a brow.

"Then?"

"I... I pulled on Mellena's hair—" Her eyes darted guiltily to her mother, "and pulled her off. Then she called my mom and dad dumb, and then Miss Larra came over and told us to come inside."

The teacher looked at both girls for a moment, nodding. "I see you both have fairly similar stories about what happened." Miss Larra looked up at Tali and Mellena's mother, brow raised. "However, I'm inclined to believe Sarika."

Tali looked over at her daughter, who suddenly looked extremely pleased with herself. Sarika looked so much like her father that Tali almost burst out laughing.

"What?" Mellena's mother demanded, outraged. "You believe her? My child doesn't lie!"

Tali opened her mouth, but the teacher beat her to it. "She has in fact lied, ma'am."

"And how do you know this?" the woman demanded, gripping her child close to her breast. "You said you didn't see anything!"

"I saw enough." the teacher said. "Sarika was already covered in mud when your daughter was on the ground, something that seems very odd if she was the one that pushed Mellena first."

The woman began to protest, but the teacher cut her off. "And, Karri was sitting on one of the swings when I went over, which doesn't match up with Mellena's story of Yinn pushing her off. Sarika's, however, seems to fit with everything that I saw."

The woman shook her head, pulling on her daughter's hand, making her stand up. "I'm disgusted. You're siding with her because of her parents. I'm taking my daughter home."

"I don't care where you take your daughter, ma'am, but know when she comes back to school, she will be punished accordingly. I have made the best possible decision with the information I have, regardless of Sarika's family."

"My daughter is not a liar." the woman turned to look at Sarika, and Tali stood up, blocking the woman's view.

"Don't say another word to her unless it's an apology." Tali said, eyes narrowed.

The woman sniffed, looking Tali over disdainfully. "Your husband's actions in the war don't give you the right to let your child do whatever she wants." She turned and left with Mellena before Tali could say anything, and her hands balled into fists.

The teacher cleared her throat and Tali turned, seeing the woman looking at Karri. "Now, since you were involved in this, I'm going to have to call your parents and see what will happen. Go back outside, and I will deal with this later."

The girl nodded, hurrying out the doors of the office, leaving only Yinn, Sarika, and Tali. The teacher eyed her with sympathy. "I truly do believe your daughter," she said, "regardless of who her parents are."

Tali nodded, smiling at her. She looked over at Sarika, brow raised. "Seems you can't get your picture taken in that, can you?"

Sarika shook her head, looking at the ground. "Am I in trouble?"

Tali laughed. "From me? No. You did the right thing, defending yourself. Although, I'm not sure about what will happen here." She looked over at the teacher, who smiled sadly at Sarika.

"I will have to punish you, since violence is not tolerated here, even in defence." Miss Larra smiled, looking back at Tali. "Since this a first offence, I won't be too harsh—I think spending a few days helping me clean up during recess should be punishment enough."

Sarika nodded solemnly, looking up from her attempt to pick off a piece of dried mud from her dress.

Tali motioned at her daughter, smiling. "Come on. We can go back to the house and get you cleaned up."

Sarika looked at her mother, seeming to stop herself from grinning. "Can I take off this dress?"

Tali smiled, nodding. "Once we get home, you can wear whatever you want."

* * *

For all his training and conditioning, her son was not a man that did well with idle time on his hands.

She watched him turn again in the mess, walking in a straight line and watching his feet as he counted his footsteps under his breath. Waiting for intel on the whereabouts of Kargesh was going painfully slow, and John was running out of things to count.

"If you wear out the floors in my ship I'm billing you for the repairs." she said, amused.

"I love you too." he replied off-handedly, not looking up from his mind-numbing activity. It seemed his sense of humour had not deteriortated, at least.

She laughed, watching him turn and walk in the opposite direction once more. "How's your arm and side, by the way?"

"Fine. One thousand four hundred eighty-three..."

She was somewhat shocked at the amount of counting he'd done, but she quietly commended him for his focus, even on such a dull task. _Four days and he's already developed cabin fever,_ Hannah thought, laughing to herself.

She heard footsteps to her left and turned to see Maddy walk cautiously into the mess hall, eyes dull, as they had been for the past four days.

Some intel arrived faster than others.

Shepard looked up from his counting, watching the Irish girl wander silently over to the fridge, opening it for a moment and grabbing a water bottle. She looked down at the hard plastic in her hand as if wondering how it got there, and closed the fridge door shut, heading back towards the med-bay.

He caught her shoulder, raising a brow in concern. "How are you feeling?"

"Horrible." she said vapidly, shrugging off his hand and walking away.

His mother watched her go with her heart in her eyes. "Poor girl." she said when Maddy left.

He could only nod, chest tightening. He'd delivered a lot of bad news throughout his career, but it never got any easier.

True to his word, he'd called up his old Spectre qualifications on his omni-tool and was flooded with information on Intai'sei, the colony Maddy and her family had lived on. Scrolling through thousands of names, a disturbing amount being stamped as deceased or MIA, he'd found her brother, and her mother. He still remembered looking at the names, throat closing as he read.

**_Elizabeth MacLaine - MIA_**

**_Ian MacLaine - Deceased_**

A small part of his brain had whispered that her mother wasn't technically declared dead yet, though he rarely clung to false hope. It had never done him any good in the past.

Telling Maddy had not been easy, to say the least. She was a bright, happy girl, especially when he taught her how to fight. Watching that light dim as he'd told her the news had cut him deeply, as he knew that that brightness in her would not return for a very, very long time.

* * *

Maddy dragged herself back into the med-bay, thankful that Jen hadn't turned the lights back on. She was beginning to like the dark again.

She put down the un-opened water bottle and fell into her bed, pulling the covers up to her ears, not caring that she still had her shoes on. Curling in a ball, she closed her eyes and tried to sleep again.

An image of Ian laying face-down in the grass, smeared with dirt and shirt soaked with red floated almost calmly to the forefront of her mind, and she opened her eyes. Maybe sleeping wasn't a good idea.

She rolled onto her back, looking up at the ceiling. A dull, awful boredom had crept into her soul ever since Shepard had told her what had happened, a feeling that filled her with guilt. How dare she lie here being _bored_ while her brother was rotting in the grass and her mother was missing?

She flopped onto her stomach, face into the pillow. She shouldn't keep thinking, but the images were impossible to get away from. Lying here in the quiet was an almost unbearable prospect, but the thought of getting up and talking to people and being asked how she was feeling glued her into place. She wished they'd all leave so she could wander around and try not to think. Or remember.

"Maddy?" She heard Jen call from the cot next to her, and she curled in on herself. _I'm asleep, don't talk to me, I'm dead, leave me alone, please please please—_

"I know you're awake." The ruffling of bed sheets could be heard as Jen sat up.

"Go aw-away." Her voice cracked a little and she bit her tongue so hard she tasted blood. No way was she going to cry.

She felt a hand on her shoulder and cringed away from it as though it burned her, trying to fold herself into the bed. Jen's weight pressed the side of the mattress down as she sat next to Maddy.

"I know what it's like to lose your family." Jen began. "My... my mom an-and d-dad died when—" she broke off, the silence swollen in the room. "When the batarians came."

Maddy looked up from the pillows, seeing the dark-haired girl staring at the floor. Her leg had begun to heal, but she still couldn't walk right. And yet she'd gotten up to talk to Maddy anyway. She sat up, looking at Jen. The doctor was beginning to wean her off of the pain meds, and the clarity of mind her friend now possessed was taking its toll.

Placing a hand on the girl's shoulder, she smiled shakily. "How can ye stand it?"

She shook her head. "I can't, really. I slept for most of the time I was on the slaver ship, and I've been on too many drugs since we got here to think straight. Only now I can't do any of those any more."

"Aye." Maddy agreed, pulling her knees up to her chest. "Do ye have any other family?"

Jen shrugged. "Few uncles and aunts, I guess, but I don't really talk to them. What about you?"

Maddy shook her head. "Not really. It was just me and mam and Ian. Da died during the War, and we dinna have any other family." She swallowed. "I mean _I_ dinna have any other family."

"Your mom could still be alive." Jen offered, looking at her sadly.

Maddy shrugged, leaning against the wall. "I hope so." she said, though doubt plagued her. She didn't think she would ever be so lucky for that to be a reality.

The med-bay door suddenly opened, revealing Shepard, who was holding something, though it was too dark to see what.

He walked over to the bed they sat on, hooking a chair with his foot and sitting down. "Here." he said, passing each of them something.

Maddy looked down at the bottle in her hand, a smile creeping up her face when she saw the label. "Ye're givin' us alcohol?"

He smiled in the dim light, opening his own. "Figured you'd need a pick me up."

Maddy snickered at the taboo act of opening liquor in front of an adult, and took a swig.

Her eyes watered and she coughed, trying in vain to get the drink down smoothly. "Ugh! This is—" another cough. "awful!"

She watched Jen go through a similar process, and saw Shepard grinning at the pair of them. "You aren't supposed to chug it—it isn't beer."

"Then what is it?" She asked, wiping at her eyes and peering into the neck of the bottle.

"Not sure, exactly. Vakarian bought a bottle of it for me once during a trip to the Citadel. Doesn't taste great, but it cleans out the sinuses." he said, smiling.

"You got that right." she said, taking a cautious sip. Her eyes burned again and it tasted sour, but the warm feeling in her belly helped her forget the bad taste.

"You'd be an awful parent," Maddy commented.

He laughed, raising a brow. "Why's that?"

Jen snorted. "Giving us alcohol, maybe?"

He shrugged, looking highly amused. "Figured it would help. Besides, I don't intend to start selling drugs to you or anything." He looked down at his drink. "And you're going to try it at some point. Might as well be within ear shot of an adult in case you do anything horribly idiotic."

Maddy watched Jen take another sip, smiling at the result. "This isn't too bad."

She looked over at Shepard, who took a long pull on his drink, though he didn't explode into a coughing fit. "About parents—"

"Mm?"

"Do ye ever want kids?"

"I hope so, since I already have one." he said, laughing at her expression.

"Ye do?"

"Aye," he said, mocking her accent. "She's five now."

"Oh. But I thought ye were with that quarian, Tali?"

"I am. We adopted." he replied, smiling faintly.

"Oh." she said again, not knowing what else to say. She looked down at her drink, the dark, aromatic liquid looking more and more inviting with every passing moment.

She idly wondered if he'd ever consider adopting another kid, taking a long sip.

* * *

Tali stared up at the dark ceiling, kicking the covers off for the fourth time in the past hour.

Sleep was not coming to her, even so late into the night. She wasn't used to having so much space in the bed, nor the absence of Shepard's soft breathing beside her.

_Too quiet._ She snorted, rolling onto her side. Before, she couldn't sleep on the Normandy because of the quiet engine. Now, she couldn't sleep in her home because her husband wasn't snoring next to her in bed. A lot of things had changed in her life, but it seemed that some would always stick with her.

She hoped he was doing all right. Tali had only talked to him the day before, but she missed him terribly; she wasn't used to him being gone, even if only for a few weeks. Anxiety curled in her chest when she thought of him tracking down Kargesh—he'd made a lot of enemies in his time, but batarians were especially nasty; they hadn't earned their harsh name for nothing.

There was a tiny knock on the door, and she pushed herself up onto her elbows, peering into the dark. A soft voice called out.

"Mama?"

"What is it, honey?"

Sarika's head poked in through the door, small hand gripping the wood of the doorway. "Can I sleep in here?"

She smiled, sitting up and motioning for her to come closer. "Of course."

Sarika hopped up onto the bed as Tali turned the lamp on, and she pulled her close, tucking her up under the covers.

"Did you have a bad dream?"

She looked up at her, bright eyes glowing in the dim light, shimmering with a touch of fear. "Yeah."

Tali smiled, lying down on the pillows and hugging Sarika close to her chest. "What was it about?"

"Daddy."

Tali shivered, arms tightening around her daughter. "What about daddy?"

"He was standing near the ocean, and there was a monster out there yelling at him."

"What did the monster say?"

"I don't know—it just made really bad noises and was really loud."

Tali shivered again. Shepard had told her he'd had a fairly similar dream—standing near a cliff on Rannoch with a Reaper staring at him from its grave in the ocean. And there was always a little girl with him.

"What did the monster look like?" Tali asked, looking down at Sarika. She was already nodding off to sleep, the comfort of her mother's arms and the warm blankets enough to push away the frightening images of her dreams.

"It was big and..." She yawned, snuggling closer. "Big and dark. And it had a scary red eye."


	11. Chapter 11

A/N: I actually have a few legitimate reasons for this taking so long.

1. I helped PariahKing edit his story. It's really awesome, by the way. You should check it out.

2. I became addicted to The Walking Dead.

I'll let that speak for itself.

Anyway, you should probably start reading now.

* * *

**Chapter 11: Red Tape**

Hannah had seen a lot in her life, things that had made her far more reserved than she had been in youth, but watching John attempt to fold his broad, tall form into a cramped rental car during rush hour made it extremely difficult not to burst into hysterics.

"Who the hell makes these things, anyway? Volus?" he complained, hand on the roof as he finally shoved himself into the passenger seat, although fitting his legs into the tight space below was another matter entirely.

Hannah laughed, sliding easily into the driver's side. "Good thing you're not driving. You wouldn't be able to move fast enough to stop this thing."

A grin spread across his face, like a boy about to steal cookies out of the jar in front of his mother. "And a woman driving is bett—ow! Jesus, what the hell?" he rubbed at his side, glaring at her. She glared back.

"You know damn well what, Jonathan."

He bit his lip and sat back, laughing quietly to himself, the bastard.

She sighed, turning on the aircar and smiling at the smooth sound of the engine. Even if it was just a cheap rental, civilian vehicles were nicer rides than an Alliance shuttle any day of the week.

"Where are we meeting Hackett, again?" Hannah asked, looking over at him as she pulled up into a lane.

"Right outside the east entrance to Shalta Ward, at the C-Sec outpost there." He paused, eyes darting towards the aircar's dashboard. "You sure you don't want me to drive?"

She glared at him once more and he raised his hands in mock surrender. Grumbling to herself, she turned left. Apparently now having a mission to do had put her son back in full spirits, along with his usual jackass attitude.

_It's his damn father's fault; son of a bitch was the biggest smartass I knew,_ she mused fondly, a sad smile on her lips as she touched her collarbone, feeling where her dog tags hung, along with her wedding band.

She felt a sharp pang of sorrow and shoved it back—now was not the time to be thinking about old wounds. Yet for all her efforts to stem the pain, the images and memories suddenly flooded her mind, unwanted.

_"What should we call him?" Hannah asked, looking up at Will. _

_He smiled, green eyes twinkling as he gazed down at his newborn son. "I don't know. He doesn't really even look like a person yet."_

_"Of course he does. Don't you?" she said to her nameless child, smiling at his sleeping form. "You're very handsome—don't listen to your father."_

_"Maybe we should call him William, if he's so handsome," her husband mused, grinning._

_"That'll be too confusing." she said, tracing a finger along a chubby cheek. "And he doesn't look like a William, anyway."_

_"Well, we could name him after you."_

_She looked up at her husband again, brow arched. "How is that any better?"_

_"Well, the male version of your name, anyway." he said, looking highly entertained._

_"Hannibal Lecter Shepard?" She shook her head, breathing out a tired laugh. "Yes, let's name our son after a cannibal."_

_He chuckled, slumping down into the chair next to her bed, taking her hand. "I suppose that isn't a great choice," he said quietly, thumb stroking her knuckles. "He needs a good, strong name."_

_She smiled at Will, pulling her hand away and touching his jaw. "He's so beautiful, Will."_

_Dark green eyes flicked to her, and his lips pulled into a smile. "Like his mother, then. Bastard hardly got that face from me."_

_She laughed, pushing back sweaty hair and looking down once again at her son._

_What to call him? She felt almost silly, trying to put a simple name to this beautiful, peaceful boy, like a man groping for words as he tried to explain what Heaven looked like. _

_"What about John?" Will said suddenly, and she looked at her husband._

_"John?" _

_He shrugged, playing with her fingers between calloused palms. "It's a strong name. My father's name was Jonathan, and he was a good man." Will chuckled, squeezing her fingers. "And besides, I think Grissom would be pleased to know that our son has the same name as him. Bastard will think we named this little guy after him—he's too damn cocky for his own good."_

_She laughed, wincing at the dull ache that still radiated in her lower belly. Birthing was hardly a walk in the park._

_"Naming him after an Alliance officer," she said, shaking her head. "Already pushing him towards a career path, and he hasn't even woken up yet."_

_"Naming him after a friend," Will corrected. "Though I'd hardly complain if he wanted to be in the Alliance." _

_She smiled, eyes drifting down to a sleeping face. "Jonathan Shepard. Jonathan William Shepard." she repeated, testing the name. "Yes, I like that."_

_Will smiled, hand reaching over to touch the baby's tiny hand, his finger dwarfing any limb their son possessed._

_"Welcome to the world, John."_

She pressed a hand over her mouth, trying to contain the sob. Punching a few buttons on the dashboard, the car flew out of the lanes of traffic and came to rest quietly in an empty parking lot a few moments later.

"What's the matter?" John asked, eyes darting over to her. He looked so much like his father that it hurt to even to look at him.

She shook her head, opening the door and getting out. Another sob clawed its way up her throat, and her hand pressed harder to her mouth.

Cursing could be heard behind her as her son disentangled himself from his seat, shoving up out of the car.

"Mom?" He jogged over to her side, and his hand slid to her shoulder. "What's going on?"

She turned into him, arms wrapping around his waist and pressing her face into his jacket. "I'm sorry." she whispered, shaking with the effort to hold in the pain.

He held her, arms tightening around her small form. "It's alright," he said gently. "It's okay."

She sniffed after a moment of silence, laughing through her tears and pulling back to look at him. "Why is it—" She hiccuped. "that you always end up comforting me? I'm your mother."

He laughed, eyes flaring with concern. "You can't always be the one helping people. Sometimes you need theirs."

She stepped back, wiping her eyes. "I'm sorry. God, I'm ridiculous, crying in the middle of this whole political mess."

"What's bothering you?"

She shook her head, sniffling again. "Nothing. Just—remembering, is all. Sometimes I can't stop myself."

"You mean dad?" John asked gently, leaning back against the car.

She nodded, smiling sadly at him. "I still miss him. I always have, just... it's usually easier to forget than this."

His eyes lit with understanding, but he didn't say anything. There wasn't anything to say.

She sighed, wiping her eyes once more and squaring her shoulders. "Okay. I'm okay now. Let's... go meet Hackett."

"You sure? We can hold off till later—"

"No," she interrupted. "No, this is too important. Kargesh is here now. If we wait, that slimy son of a bitch will be gone without a word."

John nodded, smiling sadly. He had already known that, of course, but it wasn't in his nature to keep quiet.

She touched his cheek. "Sweet boy. Thank you." she took a calming breath, willing herself to forget, even if it was just for now. "Now come on, we've got shit to do."

* * *

His foot was caught under the seat, and his attempts to pull himself out of the car were less than graceful, to say the least.

"I'm going to kill whoever made this," he muttered, trying to wedge his shoulders out of the tiny seat he'd shoved himself into.

"Do you need any—" his mother began, but he quickly cut her off.

"No." With a hand holding onto the side of the car, he forced himself to stand up, then cursed when his head hit the roof, even from its raised position.

"Fuck fuck fuck—"

"Be quiet! There are people around!" Hannah said sternly. "You shouldn't be talking like that, anyway."

"I'm over forty and you're still telling me how to talk?"

"How to speak," she corrected amusedly, and he glared at her from his trapped position in the car.

He wondered idly if ripping the door off would make escape any easier as he tried to get out, though he'd likely scare any civilians nearby.

He finally got his feet out of the cramped space and tripped away from the god-awful car, swearing that he'd walk back to the Orizaba, no matter how long it took.

His mother gave him an amused glance when he straightened himself. "It's your fault for being so tall."

He muttered something that made her give him a "don't start with me" look, and he scrubbed at his face with a hand. "Let's just go meet Hackett." he said, resigned.

With no more words from him other than another mutter about aircars, they began the short walk to C-Sec in silence.

It was always interesting walking beside her son in a public place. His tall stature and broad shoulders made him impossible to miss. Fierce blue, intelligent eyes and a commanding face only added to his conspicuous appearance. She wondered idly how he'd ever been such a competent infiltrator for the Alliance.

And now, because of his efforts in the War, there wasn't one person they walked past that didn't rubber neck at them. Judging by his slightly slumped shoulders and the annoyed look on his face, he hated it.

"...Commander Shepard..."

"... didn't know he was on the Citadel..."

"...Shepard's on the Citadel?"

Whispers floated in the air, and his face darkened.

"Christ," he muttered. "Batarian's going to know I'm here before Hackett does, the way these people keep talking."

She laughed, patting his arm. "It's gotten a little better, at least."

"Yeah," he said dryly. "There aren't any mobs this time."

She felt bad for him, though she couldn't help the amused grin that crept onto her face. The attention he drew bothered his wife almost as much as it did him, although her annoyance was mostly directed at women.

"How's Tali doing, by the way?"

He looked somewhat confused at the sudden change in subject, but smiled faintly. "Her and Sarika seem to be doing fine. There was a small incident at school yesterday, though I'm more proud than concerned."

"Incident?"

He opened his mouth to explain, but a metallic bang, followed by swearing, caught their attention.

The noise was coming from a more deserted part of the Ward, down a keeper alleyway. Cautiously making their way towards the sound, Shepard could hear a few choice turian curses, ones that made his lips tug up into a grin.

"Fuck you, bird. I ain't telling you shit."

There was a sigh from the turian, followed by another groan from the human.

"I can just call up this information on my omni-tool, but then the Council would see my intel request and know that you're involved. I'm sure you don't want that to happen."

They finally cleared the lip of the alleyway and could see Garrus glaring down at a human on the ground. The man's nose was bloody and he appeared to be holding his groin in pain.

"Fine. Whatever. But if you tell the Council, I'll shoot you in the fucking head."

"I look forward to it." the turian said calmly, tapping his foot impatiently as the man opened his omni-tool and sent the Spectre something.

"There. Now let me—" The man stood up and tried to slide away, but a massive clawed hand grabbed his shirt and pulled him back.

"Not yet." Garrus looked down at the glowing orange console wrapped around his forearm, predatory eyes scanning the information for a long moment.

He made a pleased sound and closed his omni-tool. "Seems like it's all there. Hold anything back and it won't be pretty. Now get out of here."

The human glared at him before turning to jog down the metal alleyway, and was gone in moments.

"It's only oh-eight hundred and you're already tangling with mercs?" Shepard said to his friend as he walked towards Garrus. The turian looked up in mild surprise, his blue eyepiece glowing in the dim light.

"Thought I heard someone over there. Didn't expect it to be you though, Shepard."

He grinned at his friend, closing the distance and slapping him in a hug. "Good to see you, Garrus."

"And to you as well." The turian looked over at Hannah, mandibles spread in a smile. "Always a pleasure, Admiral."

She rolled her eyes. "I thought I told you to cut the formalities. I hardly see you being respectful of John's title."

"I've known this bastard too long for that." Garrus looked over at him, chuckling. "Haven't heard of anything blowing up yet. You must have just got here."

John muttered something but otherwise let the comment slide. "Yeah, yeah. We're heading to C-Sec to meet Hackett."

Garrus made an interested sound. "Indeed? The Alliance finally pulled you off the shelf for another mission?"

Shepard nodded, glancing over his shoulder in reflex. "Yeah, but I can't say anything here. We'll have to go some place quieter."

Garrus nodded in understanding, letting the subject drop.

"What was that about? Back in the alley?" Shepard asked as they began walking.

Garrus grinned, mandibles spread. "A little Spectre business. Great thing about this job is that you can work with the mercenaries a lot more now. C-Sec interrogations usually don't give them as much incentive to pass on information as the prospect of being let free does."

Shepard raised a brow, feeling a touch of concern. Garrus, while honourable and idealistic to the core, could dangerously flirt with crossing the line in pursuit of "justice."

"Yeah? What were you trying to get out of him?"

The turian shrugged. "Nothing horribly interesting. Mostly just about red sand dealings in the area. C-Sec could likely take care of it, but they'd have to wade through too much red tape to get any solid information. So I'm helping them."

Shepard nodded, noticing that they had finally reached their destination. He could see the front of the outpost—it was stocked with bored-looking officers, each one dealing with several civilians that stood in front of their desks, who were all complaining about something.

"Don't know how my father put up with this for so many years. I was going insane after only a few months." Garrus commented, looking at the officers with sympathy.

"'Going insane'? I wasn't aware that that had stopped." Shepard said with amusement, making the turian chuckle.

"Coming from a man who—"

"Commander, Admiral."

Their conversation was interrupted as they turned to see Hackett behind them, getting up from an uncomfortable-looking bench.

The grizzled Admiral noticed Garrus and nodded respectfully towards him. "Vakarian. Good to see you're doing well."

Garrus nodded back, smiling faintly. "Figured I'd see what was going on. If Shepard's involved, it's sure to be interesting."

Shepard rolled his eyes but said nothing, simply walking towards Hackett and giving him a firm handshake. "Good morning, sir. I trust you've found a quiet place to talk?"

* * *

C-Sec shuttles might be ugly, but they at least had a lot of leg room.

The four of them were on their way to Shepard's apartment, which had been re-built after the War. Although the Commander had little use for it himself, he'd given each of his crew a set of keys to the luxurious suite in case they ever needed a safe place to stay on the Citadel.

Shepard sighed, stretching comfortably in the hard seat he sat in. No amount of leather padding in an aircar could make up for the space a shuttle bench provided.

He saw his mother smile faintly at his relaxed form, and he grinned back at her. She seemed to have recovered from her rare emotional lapse, but he could still see the somber look in her eyes. It bothered him to see her like that, but her grief was a not a thing he could fix for her. And that perhaps bothered him even more.

"You're into it with the batarians again, Shepard?" Garrus asked, snapping him out of his thoughts. Hackett had begun relaying what had happened at the party several days prior to Garrus, although Shepard hadn't been paying much attention until now.

"Yeah." he replied, not in the mood to talk about his awful relationship with an entire species.

Garrus nodded, smart enough not to continue in that vein of conversation.

Hackett cleared his throat, beginning where he left off once more. "Seems they've decided to go down a more subtle route of destroying the Alliance this time."

Shepard snorted at the word choice. "Subtle?" Hackett raised a brow at his rather rude interjection, and he hastily cleared his throat.

"With all due respect sir, they tried to blow up a luxury ship. I wouldn't call that subtle."

The Admiral smiled faintly. "Their methods may not be discreet, but their results are. Them destroying an Alliance ship has actually helped their image, given the way they've delivered the story to the media. They know what the hell they're doing. I can't stress how careful we have to be when dealing with Kargesh, since this could get ugly for the Alliance government."

_"Warning, environmental hazard ahead. Please input alternate route."_

"The hell?" Shepard stood up from his seat and made his way over to the cockpit, seeing that the shuttle had come to a stop. The dashboard was lit with several red hazard lights.

"What's going on?" his mother asked, standing up.

"Don't know yet." He walked over to the shuttle doors and pressed the release. With a hand on the support rail above his head, he leaned out to look ahead.

Cars were all stopped by a blockade, with C-Sec patrol blocking access. He could see shutters being pulled down and completely blocking off the way ahead in the narrow, tubed street they were currently on.

"John! Be careful!" He could hear his mother chiding him from his half-exposed position of hanging out of the side of the shuttle.

He waved a free hand. "I'm fine. No cars are moving anyway."

"Can you see what's happening?" Garrus asked, poking his head out.

"Not really. They've completely closed off the—"

"We ask that everyone park and step out of their cars immediately. This area is unsafe." A voice of strong authority could be heard giving orders, likely a C-Sec officer.

Shepard stepped back into the shuttle, motioning for Garrus to kill the engine and park the shuttle on the ground below. With the vehicle now sitting on the street, the four stepped out and looked around, seeing other civilians do the same.

Spotting an idle officer, they made their way over to her. The asari appeared to look almost nervous, something that made Shepard tense and reach for the gun at his hip that wasn't there.

"Excuse me!" Hannah called, making the asari look up from her omni-tool. "Can you tell me what's going on?" she asked when they stopped in front of the woman. Her eyes widened at the appearance of the two Alliance Admirals, who were accompanied by the galaxy's most famous Spectres. Shepard resisted the urge to rub at the bridge of his nose. It was difficult to have constructive conversations with people who only wanted to stare wide-eyed at you and ask ridiculous questions.

"Are you Commander Shepard?" the asari asked, looking at him from behind his mother's shoulder.

"I am, yes. Can you tell us what's going on, ma'am?" he said, stressing a military tone.

His formality had the desired effect, and the officer seemed to snap out of her dazed state. "Erm, of course. There's been an eezo spill about fifty metres ahead. We've been ordered to shut down this highway."

Shepard sighed, reaching into his pocket. Maybe flashing his Spectre badge might move them along.

The asari saw him taking out his qualifications and shook her head apologetically. "I'm sorry, sir, I can't let anyone past, even Spectres. Since this is a biohazard, no one is allowed past until the area is deemed safe."

"How long will that take?" Hackett asked, and he could hear a hint of impatience in the man's voice.

His tone didn't seem to go unnoticed by the C-Sec officer, either. The woman straightened, anxious look on her face growing. "Judging by the size of the spill, it could take a few days to remove all—"

"Days? Christ." Shepard muttered, feeling a headache begin to spread across his forehead. Nothing was ever fucking simple.

"I'm sorry." the woman repeated, looking sheepish. "Your car will be cleaned and returned to you once this has been taken care of. For now, you'll have to take Citadel Rapid Transit to get to your destination."

* * *

"You'd think they'd have a more efficient way of cleaning up eezo by now." Shepard said, though it was more to be contrary than anything else. The galaxy had discovered eezo thousands of years ago and the fuckers still didn't know how to contain it properly.

"I feel sorry for the workers who have to decon all the cars." Hannah said, frowning. They'd already gone through decontamination themselves, and her skin felt dry and itchy from the scanners.

Shepard sighed, rubbing at the base of his skull. His amp kept flexing at the proximity to element zero, and it was starting to give him a migraine. The flashing lights of the Wards hardly helped, either.

They were now standing in the transit station, waiting for the trains to arrive. He was uncomfortably aware of all the stares their group was receiving, and Garrus had even glared at a pair of asari taking photos of them on their omni-tools.

"How long is you-know-who going to be on the Citadel?" Shepard asked, turning to Hackett. Mentioning their target's name in the subway wasn't a great idea.

The Admiral shook his head. "Unknown. I only heard that he'd be here, not for how long."

"So he could be gone already?" the Spectre growled, shifting restlessly. He'd been tensed for a fight all morning, and now with no release for that energy, he was left feeling jittery.

Hackett sighed, nodding his head. "Unfortunately, that is a possibility."

Shepard rolled his shoulders, trying to dispell the dry feeling of his skin from the decon. Frustration was getting the better of his mind, and he resisted the urge to punch something. He just wanted to go home to his wife and daughter already and be done with the galaxy's problems.

He smiled faintly at his own thoughts. He was turning into a crabby old man, and his hair hadn't even started to grey yet.

The tram hummed to a stop in front of them, the thrusters underneath the sleek machine glowing a faint blue. Civilians poured out of the automatic doors, all hurrying towards their jobs and families. Once the doorways were relatively clear of people, the four stepped onto the tram.

Shepard noted with some satisfaction that he didn't have to duck or squeeze through anything to get to a seat. Apparently the train had been built with all races in mind, both big and small. They passed a set of seats clearly designed for volus, heading towards the larger section of the more universally designed benches.

Hackett and Garrus sat across from Shepard and his mother, and he saw the turian grimace at the hard seats. "I don't know how you people think these things are comfortable."

"That's because we don't have bony asses." Shepard replied, grinning at his friend. Vakarian glared at him, shifting in his seat.

After a few minutes of waiting for everyone to take their place in the train, the massive car shifted forward, picking up speed rather quickly as it bolted towards its various destinations. Shepard rubbed at his neck again, relieved that his amp had calmed down. Eezo was helpful if found in combat, since it boosted his abilities, but would create headaches if left idle.

His gaze drifted around the tram, wincing at the brighter advertisements that floated around the walls of the train. He did his best to nod politely at anyone who caught his eye—which was often—even if all he wanted to do was glare at them. Couldn't he have five minutes as a normal person who people didn't look twice at?

"Is your head okay?" his mother asked, looking at him with concern. He nodded, rubbing at his temples.

"Yeah, just a bit of a headache from the eezo. It should be gone soon." He smiled reassuringly at her when something caught his eye.

Adrenaline coursed through his veins as his eyes locked with four black ones. The batarian smiled, sharp teeth white against his sallow features.

"John?" Hannah looked at him, seeing him go completely still. She saw his hand drift to his belt for a weapon, and her heart sped up. Following his gaze, she noticed Kargesh smiling at him, standing maybe ten seats away.

Shepard slowly stood up, intensely aware of the combat knife stored in his boot—the sheathed blade pressed painfully into his ankle. His mother looked like she was about to protest, but he squeezed her shoulder hard in passing, silently telling her to stay put.

He walked towards the man, boots echoing faintly on the metal plating. People watched him stalk slowly down the aisle, eyeing him with caution. He could hear the din of a dozen different conversations, the pedestrian noise at odds with how close Death stood to all of them.

He stopped just short of stepping on the man's toes, eyes narrowed and body tensed. The smile never left the man's face, as if he didn't notice Shepard practically breathing down his neck.

"Commander," the man said quietly. "I see you've found me."

He said nothing. Shepard wondered how quickly he could reach down and grab his knife when the man spoke after a silent moment.

"Spectre badge didn't get your through the traffic jam, hm?" the batarian laughed, leaning against a handrail and appearing to be engaging in light conversation with the Commander. Shepard relaxed his stance a little.

Kargesh smiled at the silence greeting him. "Suppose your Spectre status will help get your daughter out of a similar situation?"

His knuckles popped when his hands balled into fists, and he finally spoke. "What the fuck are you talking about?" he snarled quietly, stepping closer to the man.

Another sick smile. "Don't you want your daughter to be a biotic, too? I thought I'd help move that dream along. Hopefully her lungs don't char from over-exposure—"

Kargesh's words were choked off when he was slammed into the vacant seat he stood beside, Shepard's hands wrapped around his throat. A few screams and startled voices could be heard, his mother's among them.

The batarian shoved him back and his shoulders slammed into a handrail above a bench. A fist came into contact with his jaw and he staggered, reaching for his knife. Why the fuck had he put it in his boot?

Blue encased the batarian's forearms, and people began rushing away from the fight, screams echoing in the narrow cabin. Shepard lunged at him, grabbing fistfuls of the man's shirt and slamming him onto the floor. In retaliation, Kargesh smashed his knee into the Spectre's stomach. A ragged breath escaped his lungs and he grabbed at the man's throat once more, knife now in hand. Shepard dragged the blade across his adversary's skin, straining to force it downwards.

"Shepard!" It was Garrus, and he heard booted feet running towards them. A moment later a hand suddenly grabbed at his shirt, pulling him off of the batarian. He turned to see Garrus glaring at him. "What the fuck are you doing?" Shepard jerked from the turian's grasp, ignoring him. Turning, he saw the batarian stagger upwards, running down the length of the tram.

"No!" The Commander took off in a sprint, cocking his arm and readying the knife. The batarian shoved out of a doorway, missing the blade and letting it bury itself in the wall. Shepard ran towards the tram's exit, retrieving his knife and diving after the man.

He felt himself hang in the air for a moment before slamming into a support column. He threw up his barriers and curled in on himself quickly enough to save his life, but the impact rattled his bones. In the next moment he was on the holo-tracks of the tram, the sleek train speeding away.

He unfolded himself, groaning at the body-wide bruise he now had. Clumsily getting to his feet and gritting his teeth in pain, he looked around frantically for Kargesh.

"Hey! Someone's on the tracks!"

Shepard glanced up, seeing civilians staring wide-eyed at him. He realised that he wouldn't survive another train speeding by and took a run at the wall, grabbing at the edge and hauling himself up.

"You okay, mister?" a salarian asked, hand outstretched as if in comfort.

Shepard waved him off impatiently. "Fine." He jogged towards the nearest exit, eyes scanning the halls of the subway. Now was not the time for stopping and swapping small talk.

"Hey! You should be going to the hospital! Hey!"

Shepard ignored him, pushing away any guilt for brushing off an offer of help. He'd thank the man later.

A guttural laugh met his ears, one that was unmistakably batarian, and he sprinted up the nearest set of stairs, straining to pinpoint the sound. He wove around the masses of people making their way down to the transit station, wishing idly for a gun. If he fired it overhead, they'd all get out of his way.

Some part of his mind, the part not seeing red, told him that what he was doing was wrong. Wrong for the Alliance, and wrong for him.

_But not for Sarika._

He shuddered and shoved more violently through the crowd, panic overwhelming his mind. He was given dirty looks as he searched for Kargesh, heart beating wildly in his chest.

Another laugh, this one to his left, and he ran towards it, weaving around everyone he could and shoving those that he couldn't. He cleared the throng, finally, and saw the batarian standing near the Presidium lakes as if nothing was wrong. He straightened, slowing his pace to a walk, even though it was killing him. He had to keep it as low-key as possible. He envisioned snapping the man's neck, or burying his knife in his throat—quiet ways to kill the man that made his mouth pull up in a savage grin.

He was almost at the railing Kargesh stood at when the man spun around, eyes wide with fear. "Get away! I don't want any trouble, human!" Heads turned at the yelling, and Shepard resisted the urge to send the man tumbling into the lake.

Kargesh stepped back, hands held in surrender. "D-don't touch me!"

Shepard stopped in place, realising he still had the knife in his hand. _Idiot_. He blew out a breath, trying to calm the rage boiling his blood.

Frantic voices floated around the large strip of the Presidium, and the Commander caught the voice of someone asking for C-Sec to arrive. He rubbed at the jaw, feeling a clotted bruise forming under the stubble. It was going to take a lot of fancy words to get out of this gracefully.

"Put the weapon down!"

His head turned at the voice, seeing an angry-looking human officer walk towards them.

"This is Spectre business!" Shepard called, reaching slowly for his badge.

"Hands where I can see them!" the man yelled, gun now in his hand.

"This isn't a C-Sec concern—"

"On the ground. We've heard of several incidents in the tram station. You've been flagged as dangerous."

It took all his strength not to roll his eyes. This was not going well.

"I told you, this is—"

"This man attacked me!" Kargesh said, pointing an accusing finger at Shepard.

Shepard's lips curled back from his teeth before he composed his face once more. The realisation of just what Kargesh was doing began to dawn on him and he noticed how public the whole situation truly was. The thin ice beneath his feet was already cracking.

"Get on the ground, or I'll shoot!" the officer yelled, brandishing his Predator at Shepard. He could see other shuttles pulling in to help contain the situation.

Shepard glared at Kargesh, and he saw the man smile ever so faintly.

Putting on his best diplomatic face and taking a deep breath, he turned to the officer, noting that the man's gun was wavering. He looked young, and hopefully more impressionable than a veteran cop.

Taking a step forward with hands raised, Shepard began speaking. "Listen, I'm not here to cause trouble. This man is dangerous an—"

He felt the bullet before he heard it. It ripped through his right shoulder, destroying the muscle and making him drop the knife. His legs gave out and he collapsed onto the ground, wheezing.

"Holy shit! Why the fuck did you shoot him?"

"I-I don't know! He-he was walking towards me!"

He heard more officers arriving, all yelling. People were screaming and running, the whole floor in a massive panic.

He drew an agonising breath, fire radiating down his right side. He could see his vision already tunnelling and the smell of blood filled his nose. The noises were getting dimmer, farther away.

"Jonathan!"

His mother? He turned his head, a ragged breath escaping his lips. He noted that it was getting more and more difficult to breathe.

He saw Kargesh slipping away from the commotion, forgotten in the panic as officers tried to contain the situation.

The black finally consumed his vision, leaving him with only thoughts of vengeance.


	12. Chapter 12

A/N: I really don't have a good excuse for this one. Well, maybe. I've started working on a novelisation of ME2, which I'll be posting and working on after Echoes is done.

* * *

**Chapter 12: Aftermath**

"Don't get crayon on the table, I just washed it." Tali chided, watching her daughter scribble intently onto a piece of construction paper.

Sarika smiled brightly, holding up her masterpiece. "Do you like it?"

Tali nodded. "It's beautiful. What is it?"

Her daughter's face scrunched up at the thought of her mother not instantly knowing what her creative efforts had produced and frowned down at it. "It's a cro-co-dile. Like the one dad showed me!"

Tali smiled faintly, pushing down any anxiety at the mention of her husband. "Why don't we hang it up on the fridge?"

Getting up from the kitchen table, they headed over to the sleek appliance, Tali grabbing a few magnets. When handed the picture, she noted with amusement that Sarika had put her name on it in Khelish, but had wrote "Crokadil" in English letters.

She heard distant chatter from the vid-screen in the living room as she hung Sarika's work of art up, and even picked out the fuzzy sound of a gunshot.

Now curious, she made her way around the kitchen table and into the living room, seeing the face of a reporter taking up most of the screen.

_"—news, live from the Citadel. Earlier this morning, C-Sec officers were called to the lower strips of the Presidium to contain a deadly situation between a unidentified batarian and human Spectre Commander Shepard."_

Tali's eyes widened when they cut to a camera feed of the Presidium. She watched Shepard stalk towards his target, a cold, murderous look on his face. And a combat knife in his hand.

_"Attempts to peacefully defuse the situation proved a dead end, and finally an officer had to use deadly force on Commander Shepard when he threatened to attack. We show the next scene with great reluctance, and ask viewers to watch at their own discretion."_

"Sarika, go upstairs."

"But—"

"Go." she ordered, not looking away from the screen. She heard her daughter's reluctant footsteps pad down the hallway and towards the stairs.

The screen cut to a scene of Shepard talking with an officer about ten metres away from him. The man was holding a gun and shouting, although the lack of audio kept what they were saying a mystery.

The officer cocked the gun and Shepard took a step forward, palms stretched out in a diplomatic gesture. The muzzle of the Predator flashed and red sprayed across her husband's shoulder, the bullet exiting through his back in a grizzly explosion.

He collapsed onto the ground and she saw officers come rushing to the scene, yelling at the man who'd shot Shepard and running towards the Commander to try and stabilise him.

The screen cut back to the reporter and the woman began speaking again, but Tali didn't hear any of it.

She slowly sat down on the couch, the image of Shepard getting shot playing over in her mind. Pulling up her wrist, she attempted to activate her omni-tool. Her hands were shaking so badly that it was difficult to tap at the screen, but when she finally called it up, she dialed Hannah's number.

* * *

Garrus had always held true to the belief that Shepard's temper was one of a kind; he'd never seen anything more terrifying than his enraged friend.

That belief was promptly tossed out the window when he witnessed the ire of Hannah Shepard. Garrus had to give Bailey credit for not bursting into flames—the glare she was giving him would've incinerated a lesser man.

"What the hell do you mean, 'attacked'? Jon wasn't even close to the bastard!"

Bailey sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "Admiral, I'm going to have to look through the tapes again to make sure what exactly happened. If it's any consolation, Hanks feels awful about shooting him."

Hannah crossed her arms, glare intensifying. "He better be. Jon's in for surgery as we speak."

Garrus glanced over at the woman, seeing her angry mask faltering as she thought about her son. The turian extended an arm and touched her shoulder, causing her to look over at him.

"I've seen some of the injuries Shepard's taken—a bullet in the shoulder is a walk in the park for him." Garrus said quietly, hoping to reassure her.

Hannah nodded, seeming to lose a bit of steam. She looked over at Bailey, who was staring at them with a look of sympathy. "Is... is there anything I can help with, while we wait?" Hannah asked, sounding exhausted.

The man's mouth twisted as he thought. "No, I'm afraid not. We've already cleaned up the blood and have quelled the paparazzi. For now, at least," he muttered. "There isn't much else you can do."

Hannah slumped down into a chair in Bailey's office, looking a hundred years old. "That bastard better live. I'm not losing my son too."

* * *

The waiting was brutal. But then, it always was.

It'd been four hours since they'd rushed him to Huerta, and still his door was locked by the doctors working on him.

Hannah had done this a million times. She'd waited for her husband to come home from some awful mission, or sat in emerge as Jon was patched up from some daring stunt he'd attempted in school. Yet the anxiety still made her feel sick, and the urge to start pulling her hair out never faded.

They were now situated in the waiting room of the hospital. Garrus had made himself as comfortable as one could on a plastic chair, feet propped on a bench and cleaning an immaculate pistol.

She hadn't seen Hackett since he'd left in the middle of her interrogation of Bailey. Hannah had never seen Steven quite so angry before. She could understand his rage, from an objective point of view—Jon had attacked their target in a public place and had looked like a lunatic while doing it. With the Alliance still struggling to find solid proof, they were going to have a difficult time proving to the Council that Kargesh had attacked Intai'sei. This incident just gave the batarians more gasoline to throw into the flames.

That didn't stop her from wanting to slap the glare off of Hackett's face—he was mad at her son. It was justified, but it was still her son.

She wondered what had set John off—he'd been quite clear on how to go about catching their target, and it had certainly not been the way he'd handled it.

"Kargesh must've threatened Tali." Garrus said, as if reading her thoughts, and she looked over at him.

"What do you mean?"

Garrus shrugged, sliding the barrel of his pistol back into place as he finished polishing it. "The only time I've ever seen Shepard go insane or lose his head during a mission was when something happened to Tali."

Hannah's eyes widened. "Oh shit, I forgot about Tali."

Garrus' mandibles clacked as they drew tight against his face in surprise, but she was too concerned to notice the turian. She stood up and activated her omni-tool, beginning to dial Tali's number.

"Hannah!" the quarian's frantic voice suddenly came out of the glowing device, making her jerk in surprise. "Where's Shepard? Is he okay? What—"

"He's okay, Tali." she said quickly, moving to a more secluded part of the waiting room. "He's in for surgery right now, but from what I've been told, he's going to be fine."

There was a pregnant silence on Tali's end, and Hannah finally heard a shuddering breath. "What... what happened?"

"I don't know—John saw Kargesh on the tram we were taking and started talking to him. A moment later he had his hands wrapped around the bastard's throat and was chasing him through the Presidium." Hannah looked behind her by reflex, speaking in a whisper. "Garrus thinks that Kargesh said something about you or Sarika to set John off—I can't think of another reason why he'd attack so violently."

"Keelah," she heard Tali murmur. "I just saw a news report about it. John—" she broke off, blowing out another breath. "They showed him getting shot by C-Sec."

"Jesus. The media can't get enough of gruesome story-telling, it seems. Tali, I'm sorry you had to find out like that. I was so focused—"

"It's okay; you had to get him to the hospital." A pause. "Is... is he awake?" she asked hopefully, and Hannah's chest tightened.

"Not yet, honey. They're still patching him up. But I'll call you as soon as there's any news, okay?"

She heard Tali sigh. "Alright. I'll... just wait with Sarika."

"Are you two okay? Do you want me to call Raan?"

"No, no. We'll be fine." Tali sounded exhausted, and Hannah's heart ached for the woman. She certainly knew what this felt like.

"Take care, Tali. And give Sarika a kiss for me."

* * *

There was an odd sound close to him. Someone talking, but it was indistinct and muted, as if he was just on the verge of going deaf. His brain felt thick and slow, a feeling he'd grown accustomed to during his life in the military—heavy anesthetic was an old friend of his by now.

He felt a dull fire radiating down his back and shoulder, even with the pain suppressants swimming in his blood. Dread slowly curled in his belly at the thought of fully waking up—when the medication wore off, he wasn't looking forward to the pain spreading.

There was a pressure on his throat, someone feeling his pulse. The familiar touch made his lips tug up in a smile as he dimly realised who it was. There was only one doctor that he'd ever met who didn't trust medical equipment read-outs.

"Already waking up, I see?" Chakwas said, sounding amused. With more effort than he cared to admit, he opened his eyes, then squinted at the light. The doctor pulled up her omni-tool and dimmed the brightness when she saw him wince. Visual obstruction now gone, he finally saw her face come into view. She touched his undamaged shoulder lightly, smiling at him. "How are you feeling?"

His brows drew together as he tried to form words, his dulled mind not remembering how to speak. "I..."

She chuckled, watching his mouth twist and throat work as he attempted to talk. "Still too drugged to speak, I see. But I'm impressed at your recovery rate; your body's already flushing out the anesthetic, and it's only been six hours. The dose we gave would've put down an elephant." she said, a smile in her voice. "I'm going out for a moment, but I'll be back soon. Try to move and I'll tape you down, you hear me?"

He frowned at her, her voice beginning to fade out. She seemed to take that as confirmation, however, and promptly left the room.

With the room now quiet once more, he tried to remember why he was in a hospital. He wasn't on the Normandy—the ceiling he was staring at didn't belong to his ship. Well, Garrus' ship now.

Garrus. Garrus was somehow involved in this, he knew that much. Was the turian hurt?

He mentally sighed at his inability to form lucid thoughts. He was trapped between the infuriating limbo of consciousness and sleep that anesthetic brought on. It was an effort just to keep his eyes open.

He turned his head to the side, trying to see where he was and maybe trigger a memory in his brain. He saw only a smooth, metal wall a few feet away to the left of his medical bed. Looking over to the right, he saw a small table next to the cot with a lamp and a glass of water. There was a chair in the corner and a small coffee table holding out-dated reading material. Definitely a pedestrian hospital.

That hardly told him anything, and he was annoyed that nothing triggered in his mind—he'd been hoping for a burst of coherency.

Looking down, he saw a massive white bandage covering his shoulder. It wrapped around his back and looped back up over his collar bone. He could even feel the slight pull on his skin from surgical tape over his ribs. What the hell—

"John, honey?"

He grunted, trying to speak. His mother.

Her voice flooded his mind with tangled memories, vivid snapshots of seemingly random images strung together to form a panicked view of the Presidium.

_Kargesh._

He started to get his hands under himself, suddenly remembering the threat. _Sarika._

"Goddamnit, don't move. Can't you sit still for five minutes?" Hannah said sternly, walking over to him. Pressing a palm down on his chest, she forced him back into the bed. Part of him was surprised at how little strength he possessed—his mother hadn't been able to force him down since he was a child.

He became more alert of his surroundings, adrenaline flooding his mind with lucidity. And pain. He hissed, teeth clenched at the stabbing pain running down his back and side. His mother's eyes flared with concern and she touched his cheek gently. "Just take it easy. You've lost a lot of blood and were in surgery for quite awhile. I'm glad Garrus docked the Normandy here—Doctor Chakwas certainly knows how to keep you alive."

"Sarika—" he rasped, his mouth infuriatingly thick and lax. It was a tremendous effort to simply make noise. Hannah saw the panicked look forming in his eyes and her expression turned to one of sympathy.

"It's okay, John. Garrus and I talked to Tali and told her what happened—they're okay."

"No... no," he repeated, fear growing. He had to call his wife, tell Tali to get Sarika and her away from the house. He had to get up. He began to move in the bed once again, struggling to ignore the pain.

His mother stood up, pressing him down again, now with more force. "Stay put, I mean it! I'll get Chakwas to put you under!"

He grabbed at her arm with his good hand and gave her the most lucid look that he could muster.

"Tali. Away... from the house." Speaking shot white-hot pain across his shoulder and ribs, and he felt the inky black creep into his mind once more. _No, not yet._

Her eyes held dawning realisation, as if his words had connected something inside her mind. "I'll call Tali, John. Tell her to stay at Raan's, okay?"

He nodded with what consciousness he had left in him, stilling against the cot and falling back into oblivion.

* * *

If Tali hadn't been sick with worry, she'd have found her daughter's jumpy movements amusingly like her father's.

She had talked to Hannah two hours ago, and still nothing. The waiting was hell, and telling Sarika that her daddy had been hurt had been more difficult than she thought. Although a five year old couldn't quite grasp the meaning of mortality, she was old enough to know that her dad was hurt and that was because he wasn't at home.

"When is daddy coming back?" Sarina asked, frowning down at her plate of fruit that Tali had assembled for her. "I miss him."

Tali clenched her teeth, not wanting to cry in front of her daughter—it would hardly help to keep her calm. "I don't know, sweetie."

"Why did he have to go?" she asked, more forcefully. "I didn't want him to!"

Tali got up from her chair and picked Sarika up, carrying her over to the living room and sitting on the couch. Her arms protested at the weight, but she was too anxious to care.

"The Alliance needed him for a mission." Tali said, trying not to sound bitter. "He had to help Admiral Hackett."

"I _hate_ the All-i-ance!" her daughter said adamantly, small hands balling into fists. "I want dad to come home!"

Tali pulled her small form close, resting her chin on Sarika's soft hair. "I want him to come home too." she whispered, anger filling her chest. Why did he have to leave? Why couldn't he have just told Hackett to fuck off, and find someone else?

_Because your husband's honour is more important than his family,_ her mind offered unhelpfully, and she shoved it away. No, John cared about her and Sarika too much to die on them.

_Then why is he risking his life to play with the frayed ends of unfinished business—knocking on Death's doorstep just to attend to a batarian injustice committed years ago? Why is he leaving you and Sarika alone and afraid? He'd rather die trying to fix something forever broken than take care of his own family._

And for all Tali's strength and will, she couldn't push that thought away, couldn't answer those questions.

* * *

"A week? I've got to stay in here for a damn week?" he thundered, glaring at Chakwas. The doctor glared right back.

"At _least,_ so don't bloody complain. Your shoulder was completely destroyed, and you bruised your _bones _jumping out of that train! You're lucky I didn't have to replace your ribs!"

He clenched his fists on top of the bed sheet covering him, rage filling his chest. That bastard would get away again, and now he had a week's start. Shepard couldn't find a swear word strong enough.

"Now eat that plate of food I gave you—slowly, damn it—and sit still. If you move out of this bed, I'm going to put you under, and I mean it." With that, Chakwas turned on her heel and left the room.

He grimaced down at the plate he'd been given, not pleased that he'd have to eat hospital food—it was more awful than Alliance rations. Setting it aside on the table next to him, he stared up at the ceiling from his sitting position on the raised cot.

His mind drifted back to Sarika and Tali, and resisted the urge to groan. His wife would be furious the next time he spoke to her. A part of him wanted to see that fire in her, watch her fluid form move and pace with anger, as she always did. She was a beautiful sight, his wife.

His chest tightened with loneliness. He missed her terribly. Missed talking to her and the smell of her hair. Missed watching her move around their home and having her bed with him.

He derailed that particular train of thought rather quickly, seeing a small spike in the heart monitor's readouts. That would not be something he cared to explain to Chakwas. Still, he had difficulty not imagining his wife naked, or remembering what it felt like to have her legs wrapped around his waist—

There was a knock at the door and he quickly grabbed the tray of food, setting it down strategically on his lap. He wasn't keen on showing anyone where his thoughts had gone.

He saw Hackett appear in the doorway and Shepard straightened. His mother had told him of the admiral's silent ire.

The man looked over at him, icy eyes unusually composed.

"Commander," Hackett began, voice quiet. "I trust you're feeling all right?"

Shepard noted that the man had used his title and not his name, and cleared his throat. "All in all, I'm not too bad, sir."

The admiral nodded, walking over to the small sitting area and running his fingers along the glossy covers of outdated magazines. Hackett remained quiet for an uncomfortable amount of time, and Shepard finally set the tray of food back down on the table and swung his legs so that he was in a sitting position. Ignoring the pain shooting down his side and doing his best not to grit his teeth, he spoke up. "Is there something you needed to talk about, Admiral?"

Hackett looked over at him, gaze intense but controlled. "What the hell happened, Commander?" he asked, looking like he was having difficulty keeping his voice level.

Shepard rubbed at the bridge of his nose. "Sir, I know that I handled it badly. I knew how we were supposed to operate—"

"Then why did you attack him?" Hackett interrupted, voice rising. "Why in God's name did you chase him through the Presidium? Do you know what's happening on the news right now? What they're saying about humans? About the Alliance?"

"He threatened my family!" He was losing his temper; Hackett was fully within his right to be angry, but Shepard was not in an understanding mood. "He threatened my daughter!"

"She isn't even your real daughter!" Hackett yelled, eyes blazing. The man realised his mistake a second later, but Shepard didn't give him a chance to explain himself.

Red clouded his vision and he jumped off the bed, fists clenched. _"What?"_

"Comman—"

"Who the fuck are you to judge _my_ daughter? My family?"

"Shepard, I didn't—"

He scrubbed at his face, violently. He was having difficulty not punching the man. "She's mine." he said, sounding defeated. The rage that had pushed him off the bed left him, and he suddenly felt exhausted.

Hackett sighed, some of his anger draining from him. "That... I didn't mean that, Shepard. God damnit." he muttered, rubbing his temples. Looking up, he appeared more solemn than angry. "I don't have a family of my own, Shepard. I'm not going to even try to understand what a threat to them would feel like. But... fuck." he said, and the vulgarity of his speech caught the commander's attention.

"This is a shitstorm, Commander. There's a riot outside of the human embassy at this very moment. People are demanding to know what's going on. The media is calling us barbaric and implying that we want war with the batarians. And the batarians themselves are claiming that we're attacking them because we didn't feel the Alpha Relay incident was bad enough." Hackett met Shepard's eyes, and there was a quiet anger roiling inside of them. "And I'm starting to think that asking you to come along was a mistake."


	13. Chapter 13

A/N: So, in a fit of glorious, hyper-productive rage, I finished this chapter and the next, and am starting chapter 15. Therefore, I present to you a chapter that didn't take a month to produce.

* * *

**Chapter 13: Temptation**

"Commander!"

"Commander Shepard, what happened on the Presidium?"

"Do you feel that your actions were justified?"

"Who was the batarian you were chasing, and is he connected to the destruction of the Alliance's luxury ship?"

He turned on his heel, once again stopped on his relatively short journey towards his mother's ship.

"My actions towards that man were singular; he's threatened my family, and I intend to protect them." he said, meeting the eyes of each vitriolic reporter. He missed the polite social grace of Emily Wong's interviews more than he thought he would.

"But your actions have damaged the Alliance's reputation, and the batarians are beating the drums of war. Is this how you intend to protect your family?"

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He'd never met a more dramatic breed of people than the paparazzi. "The Alliance wants to fix our relationship with the batarians; our meeting with their politicians was an attempt to smooth things over. But it seems that their actions have demonstrated quite clearly that they have no wishes for peace. War is something no one wants, but the Alliance can't stand by and watch them destroy our ships and raid our colonies without acting appropriately." Shepard kept his voice level and made sure that his speech stayed within the boundaries of the Alliance's agenda.

With that, he turned away, ignoring the calls of more outrageous questions. They would hit a weak point in his diplomatic skills eventually, and he'd never hear the end of it if a slip-up made the news. Although he was used to mentally preparing responses to ridiculous questions from reporters who seemed to appear out of thin air, he couldn't anticipate everything. And they'd crucify him in the news if that ever happened.

His shoulder and ribs burned, making him slow his pace as much as he dared. He'd obediently spent three days stuck in a hospital cot before convincing Chakwas to let him use his mother's QEC so that he could speak with his wife. He was hardly fit for more hunting, as the beat of his heart had become a painful reminder of his wounds every moment of the day, but he wasn't about to miss an opportunity to speak with Tali. His wife had sent him a short message via Hannah's extranet call, but it was hardly the same as a real conversation.

He relished the thought of hearing her voice again, even if talking with her meant a fight. At this point, exhaustion had consumed his mind and all he wanted to do was go home. But Duty called, as it always did.

"You seem to have handled that well, Shepard. Hopefully they'll listen to you better than they have I."

He turned at Hackett's voice, eyes narrowed slightly. He'd hardly forgotten their earlier conversation days ago.

"Admiral." Shepard said curtly, not stopping to speak with him.

He heard a sigh behind him and the clip of boots on metal as Hackett caught up with him. "Commander," he began. "There's no one I respect more than you—stop for second!" The man grasped Shepard's good shoulder tightly, making him stop and look at the admiral.

"There's no one I respect more," he repeated, blue eyes meeting blue. "And there is nothing I—or the rest of the galaxy, for that matter—can do to repay you for what you've done. But... this isn't going well."

"I told you that I'd catch the bastard, and I will. I've learned my lesson, Admiral. I won't let personal feelings get in the way again." Jerking his shoulder from the man's grip, he continued on, and this time Hackett did not follow.

* * *

Tali chewed on her lip, which had already cracked and bloodied several times under the assault of sharp teeth.

Sarika was sitting in Raan's small living room playing with an assortment of model ships, ranging from quarian liveships to turian dreadnaughts to Alliance cruisers. Her favourite was the Normandy, of course; the plastic was bent and worn from hours of imagination, and it even had green crayon on the belly, spelling out Sarika's name in Khelish script.

Tali wished that she could lose herself in something so benign and mind-numbing. Even trying to fix Raan's old coolant system for her fridge hadn't worked; all she could think about was Shepard getting shot.

Hannah had updated her numerous times throughout the past three days, telling her that Shepard was on the mend, but had to be put under frequently for the pain. What Hannah hadn't added was that his unwillingness to allow someone to take care of him had greatly contributed to his medicated state, but Tali could figure that out for herself. Knowing that Chakwas was there to put the stubborn bastard in his place calmed her nerves, and she even smiled at the thought of the old doctor arguing with her husband.

"Tali?"

She looked over to see Raan staring at her, and she realised that this was the third time her aunt had said her name.

"Yes?" she asked, stopping her urgent pacing in Raan's kitchen.

"The QEC in my office was commed; Shepard's on the line."

Several different emotions bubbled up inside her chest, making it almost difficult to breathe; fear, relief, anger, and happiness all battled for control over her mind. Pushing them aside, she darted towards Raan's office beside the kitchen, closing the door behind her with a muttered "thanks".

Seeing the QEC's interface beeping, she reluctantly walked towards it, both dreading and anticipating a talk with her husband. Opening the link, she waited impatiently for the blue pixels to arrange themselves into the form of John. She was ready for battle—the bitterness that she'd been carrying around for the last few days was eager to find release, and Shepard was about to get an earful.

That thought quickly fled her mind when the image crystallised. Standing before her was a man who looked horribly exhausted; his eyes held dark circles under them, his face was lined with a tired anger that made him seem years older, and his shoulders had a defeated slump to them. Whatever she'd been expecting, it wasn't this. When her eyes found the asymmetrical bump under his shirt that told her of heavy bandages, the urge to yell at him was replaced with guilt and a need to wrap her arms around him.

His lips pulled up in a faint smile. "Tali. Jesus, it's good to see your face."

She put a hand to her mouth to contain a sob, and his eyes widened. His good arm extended towards her before realising contact wasn't possible, and his gaze took on an agonised shine. "What's wrong?"

"What's wrong?" she asked incredulously, wiping at her eyes. "Look at you! I can't... Shepard—" She shook her head, eyes stinging. "...You're hurt." Tali ended lamely, not being able to find better words.

"It's not that bad. Chakwas—"

"That isn't the point! Do you know what this is doing to us? Sarika broke down and bawled her eyes out yesterday because she misses you, and I have to go to bed each night wondering whether or not you'll be alive tomorrow!"

"I'm doing the best I can!" he shouted, eyes burning. "Christ, you think I don't want to come home? Hackett's giving me shit for what happened on the Presidium, the media's causing a shitstorm because of it, and everyone thinks we're going to war with the batarians! I can't leave!"

"So you'd stay for the media, for Hackett, but you wouldn't leave for us? For Sarika?" she asked bitterly.

He grasped the metal bar in front of him, shaking his head. "Tali, that's not what I meant. I'd do anything for you two, and you know that."

"Except come home?"

He rattled the bar, glaring at her. "Jesus, don't do this to me. I can't even begin to say how much I miss you, but I can't leave Hackett and my mother to clean up this mess. They don't deserve that."

"And your daughter doesn't deserve to live with the fear of her father never coming home." Her vision blurred and she wiped at her eyes again, waiting for a response.

His mouth opened and his throat worked, but words finally failed the man. He dipped his head, staring at the floor and leaning his weight against the metal. "Tali... I'm sorry. God, I'm sorry." He looked up at her. "But... I've got to find this bastard. I... I have to stay."

She pressed her finger to the interface, terminating the call. Watching the pixels fuzz out with detached interest, she slid to the floor of Raan's office. Tali put her head in her hands and began to cry.

* * *

Shepard stared in disbelief for a moment, not able to grasp that Tali had just ended the call; she was not a woman that ever gave him the silent treatment—if she was angry, he'd know about it. Whirling away from the QEC, he slammed his fist into the thick metal of the Orizaba. "Fuck!" He smashed his fist into it once more, hearing an unsatisfyingly dull thump. "Fuck!"

He repeated the action again and again, not caring that his knuckles were splitting or that the metal began to dent. Tali would hate him for staying, and his mother and Hackett would disapprove of him leaving, no matter what the admiral said otherwise. He had to fix what he'd started, yet the people closest to him condemned every move he made.

He finally stopped his assault on the wall and slid to the floor, hand aching and fingers covered in blood. He bumped his head against the cool metal. "Fuck," he whispered again, angry that he didn't have a stronger obscenity to shout. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, wondering what he should do. Calling Tali back wouldn't help, as much as he wanted to; he couldn't leave, and the only thing he could say to her to make his wife happy would be to tell her that he'd come home.

He was in no mood to speak with Hackett again. His mother would only be able to offer him sympathy, and not a solution, and Chakwas would tell him to get back to bed.

_Maybe I should talk to Garrus. Ask him to go to a bar with me and get drunk._ That thought was dangerously appealing, and was almost enough to make him get off the floor. Yet he knew that he'd regret it after; anger and alcohol were an awful combination, and the level of intoxication he currently wanted to achieve would make him volatile. He didn't trust himself not to get into a fight if someone said some off-colour comment to him or a reporter popped out of nowhere.

He wasn't a man who enjoyed looking for fights, but at this moment, beating the shit out of someone sounded like a fairly good way to release his fury at the current situation.

His omni-tool beeped and he swore again, looking at his blinking wrist. The alert was flagged as a Spectre message, and he opened the device out of curiosity. Looking at the contents of the alert, his eyes widened. Maybe this whole situation wasn't completely without light after all.

* * *

"Maddy!"

She groaned, looking up from her cot. Why couldn't people just leave her alone?

"Maddy!" she heard again, recognising Shepard's voice. She swung her legs out of bed and slipped on her runners, heading to the door.

"Maddy!" The door burst open and Shepard flew in.

"Jesus, what d'ye want?" she groused, blinking at the light pouring in from the open door. Shepard grabbed onto her arms, eyes wide and excited. She saw blood all over his hand and looked up at him.

"What happened to yer hand?"

He shook her, ignoring the question. "Get dressed, we're heading to the Wards."

"Why?" she complained. She didn't want to leave the safety of the medbay. Couldn't she just be left to lick her wounds in peace?

"I just got a message. They've found your mother in the refugee centre."

* * *

She was bouncing in her seat, glaring impatiently at Shepard, who seemed to be driving at a snail's pace.

"Can't ye drive any faster?"

"If you want to get into a car accident, sure." he replied. "I'm driving as fast as I can."

She slumped in her seat, sighing. When Shepard had told her of her mother's whereabouts, she'd flown around the room, collecting her clothes and quickly brushing her hair. She was angry at herself for not being presentable in the first place, but she'd clean up fairly quickly.

Jen had stayed behind; her leg was still screwed up from the gunshot, and Maddy got the feeling that her friend didn't want to intrude on a family reunion. That would hardly be the case, but she was in too much of a hurry to argue.

She looked back over at Shepard, who seemed to be particularly tense. Her eyes were drawn back to his gashed knuckles, and she decided to bring it up once more.

"What did ye do to yer hand?" she asked, studying the broken skin from her seat next to him with interest.

His mouth twisted, but he said nothing. Annoyed at his lack of response, she gave him a look. "Oh, come on. How bad could it be? Did ye beat someone up or somethin'?"

"No. I punched a wall." he said, tone deterring any further conversation down that venue. She ignored it.

"Why did ye do that?"

"That's none of your business."

She scoffed. "I'm no' a child, ye know! I know a lot more than ye think I do. Just tell me!"

"I got into a fight with my wife, okay?" he snarled, glaring at her for a moment before focusing on the road again.

She was quiet for a minute, absorbing that information. "Why did ye fight with her?" she asked after a moment. "Is she angry that ye're no' at home?"

He looked mildly surprised at her response, and she sat up straighter, feeling smug. She _did_ know more than he thought.

"Yeah." he said quietly. "That's pretty much it."

She left him alone after that, keeping to herself. It must be hard, she thought, having to leave your family all the time for military missions. She'd considered signing up with the Alliance after her father had died, but she didn't want to leave home, leave Ian and her mam.

_Now it's just mam, so maybe it won't be as bad,_ her mind whispered, and she clenched her teeth. She wouldn't think about her brother, not now.

Maddy looked out the window, watching aircars fly by and the flashing lights of the Wards a big neon blur. She'd never been to the Citadel before now, and decided to get in some sight-seeing to keep her mind off of everything else.

The sheer amount of people was something in and of itself, all species intermingling. They traded, sold, talked, flirted, and fought with one another, all living normal, boring lives. She was beginning to wonder what that would be like. Where monsters didn't exist and nothing awful happened to the people she loved.

Shaking her head, she instead turned her attention to the attractions; rides and restaurants and anything she could imagine. She even saw someone pass drugs to a fellow dealer when Shepard was stopped by traffic. She was shocked at the rather conspicuous trade of money and illegal drugs, but figured that the two stoned-looking men likely didn't care.

"We'll be there in fifteen minutes." Shepard informed her, voice neutral.

She looked over at him, smiling. "Thank you for doin' this. Really."

He shook his head, smiling slightly. "It's no problem, Maddy. You deserve to be with your mother." His mouth twisted as if he'd tasted something bitter, and looked back at the cars in front of him.

She reached over and touched his arm, making him look back at her. "I'm sorry ye had a fight with your wife."

He nodded, lips tugging up humourlessly. "I am too."

* * *

_If you handed Shepard over to the batarians, this would all be fixed._

Hackett stared at the wall of the private quarters Hannah had given him aboard her ship, taking a long sip from the whiskey glass in his hand. The thought kept repeating itself in his head, and it was getting increasingly difficult to push it away.

He sat back in his chair, eyes scanning the desk in front of him as if he could find a solution amongst the paperwork. The thought was disturbingly compelling; the batarians would finally let go of their grudge if they put Shepard on trial as a war criminal, and the Alliance would stop receiving awful reports in the news. Of course, he'd have to make it look like it was an accident—

He shook his head, violently, and set his glass down. He'd never forgive himself for betraying the commander. Hackett deeply respected the man and knew that he was doing his best to solve the problem. Hannah would likely try to kill him if he ever tried to hand Shepard over, and his wife and daughter...

No. The man had a family to care for and Hackett couldn't take away the peace Shepard had fought so hard to earn. He'd made horrible, bloody decisions in his past, ones that made him awake in a cold sweat at night even still, but he couldn't do this. The thought of Shepard's face as the batarians hauled him away... the look of crushed betrayal was too much for Hackett to bear.

But the problem remained. He'd seen several interviews with batarians, and they were all rallying for war with the Alliance. Transmissions from other admirals had asked him what the fuck was going on, and he didn't have any real response for them. He didn't even know himself.

The Alliance would suffer heavily if a war broke out. Even now, they hadn't fully recovered from their losses during the Reaper War. Was the life of one man worth entire Alliance fleets?

That question lingered in his mind, and he took another sip of his whiskey.

* * *

Maddy jumped out of the vehicle before it had even fully landed, shutting the door rather forcefully behind her. "Come on!" she insisted, annoyed at Shepard's more sluggish pace.

He seemed to have difficulty getting out of the car, and stood painfully to his feet, teeth gritted. He stretched his bad arm out, flexing his fingers and extending it outwards gingerly. She didn't want to tax him; the man was slowly recovering from a terrible wound. However...

"Shepard, please." she said, walking over to him and tugging on his good arm. He met her eyes, seeing her pleading gaze, and smiled faintly.

"Alright, let's go."

She skipped away from him, not caring if she looked like an idiot. Her mam was alive!

Shepard kept pace with her near-run, though it seemed to be costing him. He struggled to not weave as he walked, the pain beginning to make him dizzy. His shoulder was relatively fine until he began moving, and keeping up with Maddy was more exercise than his body was fond of at the moment.

He kept moving, though. He'd ran through battlefields with far worse injuries. Maddy headed to the desk that was at the front of the refugee centre, bouncing on her toes as she waited impatiently in line.

He pulled out his badge, looking down at her. Her eyes widened and she touched the polished metal briefly. "That's what the Spectre badge looks like? It's awesome!"

He smiled at her enthusiasm. "We don't have to wait in line, you know." Looking up, he skirted around the annoyed-looking civilians, heading straight to the desk.

"Sir, please wait in—" the clerk began, before realising who he was speaking to and straightened. "Uh, sir. Er, Commander. Is there anything I can help you with?"

He nodded, shoving his badge back into his pocket. "I'm looking for an Elizabeth MacLaine. I was notified that she was situated here."

"Right away, sir." the clerk stammered, typing quickly on his computer and spelling the name to himself under his breath. His eyes scanned the screen, looking for a match. "Ah, here we are. Is this the woman you're looking for?" The man flipped the holographic screen to face them, and Maddy squeaked when she saw the profile of her mother.

"Aye, that's her!" she said, bouncing on her toes. Her excited twitching reminded him of Tali, and he promptly shoved any of thoughts of her away with a grimace. He'd deal with that demon later.

The clerk nodded, closing the screen. "She's located in room P-11 on the third floor. I'll send you a map of the facility." The man swallowed, eyes conspicuously avoiding Shepard's rather obvious bandages under his shirt. "Have a good day, Commander."

"You too," he muttered, heading to the nearest door and unlocking it with the code the clerk had given him, along with the map. Maddy glanced at him excitedly, eyes holding the first sign of happiness he'd seen in a long time.

He smiled at her. "Let's go find your mother."

* * *

It seemed that elevators operated at a universally slow pace, something that appeared to be driving Maddy insane.

"Can this thing no' go any faster?" she demanded, smashing her finger repeatedly into the lift's buttons. Her accent was growing thick with annoyance, and Shepard was beginning to have trouble understanding her.

"They're all like this," he replied. "Unfortunately you can't do anything about it."

Maddy seemed displeased with his comment and slouched against the metal wall, arms crossed and foot tapping impatiently.

He'd find her ire more amusing if he wasn't in so much agony. He braced himself against the wall behind him, taking measured breaths. Even simply breathing was torture, and he was getting a sick headache from the pain. He flexed his arm again, hissing at the burning all down his side. Chakwas told him that gently exercising the muscles in his arm would help, but the hot pain radiating down his bones told him a different story.

"Ye dinna look so good," Maddy observed. "D'ye have any medication for the pain?"

"No," He shook his head, swallowing. "No, I'll be fine."

Maddy didn't seem convinced, and opened her mouth to protest when the lift came to a stop and the doors opened. She bounced off the wall she'd been leaning on, grinning. "Let's go!" Forgetting about his shoulder, she darted down the hallway, glancing around desperately for her mother's room.

Shepard shoved off the wall, steadying himself with his good arm. Painfully moving forward, he kept his arm tucked into his side, cursing the C-Sec officer who'd shot him.

"This is it!" Maddy cried, stopping in front of a seemingly random door in the hallway. The facility was set up like an apartment building, although he suspected that the rooms were much smaller.

She waited impatiently for him to catch up with her, jittering in place. When he arrived at the room with P-11 above it, he rapped his knuckles on the door, wincing at the impact of raw skin against metal.

The door opened, revealing an exhausted-looking woman. Her hair was in a messy bun, her eyes had dark circles under them, and he could tell just by looking at Maddy's mother that the woman was not doing well.

"What do you w—" Words died on her lips as she saw Shepard, then Maddy, standing at her front door. She shook her head faintly, eyes wide as she scanned the face of her daughter. Her mouth worked, silently forming words. Extending a hand, she reached out as if to touch Maddy, though she never brought her fingertips into contact.

"Madeline?" she said finally, voice so quiet that he almost didn't catch it. Shepard backed away, giving them what privacy he could in a hallway. Maddy nodded, smiling through the tears running down her face.

"Aye mam, it's me."

Her mother let out a sob and practically smothered her daughter into her chest, squeezing Maddy's small form tightly. Maddy herself wrapped her arms around her mother, crying into her shirt. The two shook in the hallway, crying and squishing each other in their embrace. He smiled at the exchange, leaning against the wall a few feet away and looking around for anyone that might intrude. Although rather public, their reunion went largely unnoticed, the metal hallways vacant.

"Maddy, oh my Maddy." her mother kept repeating, rocking her daughter in her arms. "Maddy."

The smaller MacLaine sniffled and pulled away, grinning at her mother. "I thought ye were dead."

Elizabeth hiccuped, touching her daughter's cheek. "I thought ye were, too. Is Ian...?"

Maddy looked away, shaking her head. "No, he... no. He's dead, mam."

Her mother blew out a shuddering breath, squaring her shoulders and putting on a warm face for her daughter, an effort Shepard appreciated ten times more now that he had a child of his own. "Aye well, you're here. Ian would be happy for that." The woman finally tore her gaze from Maddy, looking over at Shepard. She smiled at him. "And here you are, bringing my daughter to me once again. I can't..." She shook her head. "I can't thank ye enough, sir."

He shook his head, pushing off the wall as painlessly as he could. "It's no problem. I know what it is, that kind of fear." he added, smiling faintly. Sarika was not one for sitting still, and she's escaped his and his wife's watchful gaze a few times in the past. That kind of panic was difficult to think about, let alone describe.

Her eyes lighted, and she gestured for the two of them to come inside her room. "Come in. The least I can do is get ye some coffee."

He nodded, too tired to protest—sitting down seemed like a wonderful luxury, anyway. Heading towards them, he pushed away any more memories of Sarika and Tali. There was time enough to think about them later.

Maddy and her mother disappeared into the small apartment, and he stepped into the doorway, ducking his head around the low entrance. The room was indeed tiny; a cot, a countertop with a sink and two burners, and a small door to what he assumed was a bathroom were all that decorated the room. The only other thing was a couple of small chairs, the cushions looking worn and well-used.

Maddy's mother stood at the counter, pulling an ancient coffee machine out of a cupboard. He noticed a cube fridge under the counter, shaking his head. He was used to cramped living quarters—privacy was just a fantasy in the military—but this? It reminded him of Tali's description of her home on the Rayya. He shook his head, running a hand through his short hair. It seemed his wife wouldn't leave him alone for five minutes. Not that he deserved any peace of mind.

"Commander?"

He looked up, seeing Elizabeth staring at him. "Sorry?"

"Would ye like anything?"

"Just a coffee's fine, thanks." he said, blowing out a breath. The woman motioned for him to sit and he did so gratefully, sighing at the plush cushioning. At least he didn't have to move around.

Maddy hovered around her mother in the matchbox-sized kitchen, speaking excitedly about nothing. Elizabeth listened intently, seeming to hang on Maddy's every word with a smile. Shepard watched them with a slight smile on his lips, happy to see at least something turn out well.

As if in defiance of his thoughts, his omni-tool beeped. Its three-tiered trill that told him it was more Spectre business.

Looking at his wrist and opening the device, he resisted the strong urge to say something foul. The Council wanted to speak with him. Looking back at the two MacLaines, he sighed and painfully stood up. Duty called.

"I just got a message from the Council," he began, making the two women stop their conversation and look over at him. "And it sounds like it can't wait." He ran a hand over his jaw, grimacing when he saw his gashed knuckles in the corner of his eye. "I'm sorry—"

Elizabeth shook her head. "I just got my daughter back because of you. Ye've got no reason to be sorry."

Maddy looked at him, smiling. "It's alright, Shepard. I'll stay here with my mam."

"Are you sure you'll be alright?" A rather idiotic question, but he was uneasy about just up and leaving her, even with her mother.

She waved a hand. "I'll see ye tomorrow, maybe. See how you're doing in the hospital."

He nodded reluctantly, heading towards the small door. "Alr—"

She came up behind him and wrapped her arms around his broad form, stopping his departure. "Thank ye, Shepard. I can't say how much I'm grateful."

He laughed, looking over his shoulder at her freckled visage. "Any time, Maddy."

* * *

He decided that as much as he hated elevators, walking up the massive flights of stairs to the Council Chambers was a hell of a lot worse. His shoulder screamed at him with every movement now, and even the beat of his heart sent shooting pain down his side. He saw people do a double-take at his likely agonised face as he walked by, though he was too exhausted to care. All he was concentrating on now was not passing out.

_Chakwas is going to kill you. If you don't fall down the stairs and break your neck first._ The thought was rather appealing. At least then he'd be able to stop moving.

Finally arriving at the top of the stairs, he made sure that his gaze didn't hold a baleful tint to it as he met each councilor's eye. They were the ones who'd made him drive and walk all the way here; he could be having coffee with Maddy right now.

"Commander," the asari councilor said by way of greeting. "You seem to be in pain."

"Nothing a long walk to the Presidium won't fix," he quipped, stopping in front of them. When he saw her highly unamused look, he continued more diplomatically. "Is there something you'd like to discuss, Councilors?"

"Your injury, actually. Or what caused it, at any rate," the salarian Councilor said. "Your actions on the Presidium are not to go unpunished."

He sighed. "The man threatened my family. I know I didn't handle it—"

"Do you have proof of this? His threat?" the turian councilor asked.

"No, but—"

"Then that's hardly an adequate excuse, Commander."

His eyes narrowed. "Really? After everything that's happened, you're still going to doubt me?" He concentrated on not clenching his fists.

"It wouldn't have been a good excuse even with proof," the asari argued. Although her eyes barely shifted in Sparatus' direction, Shepard still picked upon the faint look of disapproval. "Your actions have caused a major stir with the batarians. Even now, their citizens riot in the streets, calling for war."

"That isn't because of just this one incident, Councilor." Shepard said, trying to keep his voice level. "The Alliance and the Hegemony have had problems since First Contact."

"And primarily because you destroyed the Alpha Relay," the salarian added, shaking his head.

"I—" He sighed, scrubbing at his face. "I'm trying the best I can to fix this. And you can take that to the bank. I'm doing all I can to prevent a war, believe me."

"If this is your best effort, Commander, I'm beginning to think you aren't fit for this." the turian said, eyeing him with a hint of arrogance.

He stood their silently, thinking of what he could possibly say to these people to make them understand. It wasn't as if he didn't know of the danger; the batarians were ready for a fight and the Alliance had painted themselves into a corner.

He wasn't afforded the luxury of explaining himself, however, as the turian councilor seemed to have heard enough. "You may go now, Commander. We thank you for your informative explanation."

His eyes widened in disbelief at the abrupt dismissal, but he bit his tongue. His pride would hardly help him now. Nodding respectfully in the Council's direction, he turned to leave. "I'm glad we had the opportunity to have such a constructive conversation, Councilors." He turned away before he said anything particularly stupid and took his leave with what dignity they'd left him.

"It was our pleasure, Commander," Sparatus called out as he headed towards the stairs. "With luck, we'll be speaking again before you know it."


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14: A Bargain is Made**

"You can't do this!" Hackett shouted, glaring at the Board Admirals. "This isn't the way the Alliance does things!"

"Neither is the way Shepard is handling this situation." a dark-skinned admiral replied, voice sounding almost bored.

Hackett shook his head, outraged. "No, he's made a mistake, but you can't condemn him for good intentions—"

"The road to Hell, Admiral, is paved with good intentions. Which is a path we will be walking if Shepard is allowed to continue this destructive behaviour," another admiral interrupted, her stark features even more pronounced in the pixelated hologram. "The Council is demanding that we handle this issue quickly and quietly—even our own representative agrees with them. Handing Shepard over to the batarians is the only way to avoid political suicide."

"The batarians are the aggressors, not Shepard." Hackett corrected. "Are we really going to reward them for attacking us? Allow them to execute our greatest hero, just to placate a rogue state?"

The woman raised a brow, as if Hackett had just asked a ridiculous question. "Shepard served us nobly, yes. But he is a man of war; his reckless behaviour served him well during times of unrest, but now? Ten years the galaxy has lived in peace, rebuilding homes and relations. The minute you assigned Shepard to this, the Alliance is sent to the edge of war. The Commander is an intelligent man, but he was shaped by another time. A peaceful galaxy has no use for heroes—they simply seek out what they were born to do."

The woman stood up from her desk, tense form stressing her words. "At the end of the day, Shepard is still human, and still accountable for his actions. He attacked one of the Hegemony's esteemed officers in a public place, tarring the image of the Alliance. To let this go unpunished is a grave mistake, Spectre or no."

"Punish?" Hackett asked incredulously. "He'll be murdered like an animal on the streets of Kar'shan. If we are to punish him for his mistakes—"

"We will do as the Council asks of us," Dwahan, the dark-skimmed admiral, interrupted. "To give him any sort of pass will enrage the batarians and make the Alliance seem preferential to nepotism. We are humanity's government; if we fall because of Shepard's actions, all that we've accomplished since First Contact will be taken from us. What is the life of one man, who doesn't even live with his own race, to the rest of our species?" Dwahan shook his head, eyes holding Hackett's steadily. "The consequences—both long and short term—will be unpalatable for the Alliance if Shepard is allowed any kind of special freedoms."

Hackett's eyes flared at their condescending tone, his temper shortening with each passing moment. "_Have_ you truly thought about the consequences of this, the long term damage on morale? Hannah's reaction will only be the starting point in a long bloody line of unrest. The quarians will be incensed at the execution of their reclaimer, and the krogan will not stand idly by."

"The batarians have already mobilised for war. They are the real threat, not the ire of more self-concerned species who have economic incentives to stay friendly. They may be angry at first, but time will help them forget." another admiral replied.

Dwahan rubbed the bridge of his nose and sighed impatiently, as if he were speaking to a dense child. "Hackett, I am no longer going to listen politely." He looked up, startlingly bright eyes filled with anger. "We are not asking for your opinion on the matter, we're giving you orders."

Hackett shook his head. "I won't do it. That man saved all of our lives. The sacrifices he made during the War is the reason there still _is_ an Alliance."

Dwahan stood up from his desk, pixels bouncing with the sudden movement. His eyes bored into Hackett's. "Then you will be forcefully discharged from the Alliance. Give Shepard to Kargesh, or we will dismiss you and have another Admiral do so in your place."

* * *

"John, I don't like the sound of this. Just because the Board thinks this is a good idea—"

He gave his mother a reassuring smile. "It'll be fine." He tugged on the restraints at his wrists, making sure they wouldn't fall off. "We fake a deal, get intel, then get out. And if we're lucky, we might even capture Kargesh. Then we'll have a bargaining chip with the Hegemony."

His mother gave him a dark look. "The last time the batarians met with us 'peacefully', they blew up a ship." Hannah pointed out, worry written all over her features. She didn't like sending him to the convoy ship with just Hackett as company. "Are you sure you don't want Garrus and I to be there?"

He shook his head. "No. Taking Garrus would imply turian involvement in this mess, and I don't want to piss off the Turian Hierarchy. If a war does come, I want as many governments in the Alliance's favour as possible. Besides, you heard Hackett; for this to work, we have to look as non-intimidating as we can. The more admirals we bring, the more uneasy they'll be."

"What if they find out this is all bullshit?" she asked, waving a hand at Shepard's bound wrists. "If they don't believe that you're willing to be handed over?"

"Then we leave. If they try to attack us, all the more evidence for the Alliance." _And if the worst happens, we fight back,_ he added silently. That would be a last resort; killing the leader of the batarian rebellion would guarantee a war. Only Hackett would make that call, and he'd made Shepard aware that they'd likely be on death's doorstep before that happened.

"But—"

He shook his head and she glared at him. "Don't shrug this off, John! Your shoulder's barely healed and you're already running off to fight again!"

"I need this to be over." he said quietly, giving her a significant look. "I need to get home."

Hannah opened her mouth to argue, but footsteps could be heard behind them and Shepard turned to see Hackett standing there. The man looked unusually composed, his face almost completely devoid of any emotion. "Ready, Shepard?"

He nodded, looking at his mother one last time. "It'll be fine." he repeated. She latched onto him, squeezing him tightly. "Please be safe, okay?"

He nodded. "I promise." He pulled away awkwardly, bound wrists making hugging rather difficult. Turning back to Hackett once more, he watched a look of pain cross the man's face for a split second before his features smoothed over. Shepard eyed him in confusion for a moment before deciding that he'd imagined it.

* * *

"Are you all right, sir?"

Hackett looked up from his pacing, seeing Shepard staring at him. He shook his head. "I'm fine. Just... hoping this works out well."

Shepard nodded, looking faintly amused as he gazed down at the restraints on his wrists. "So do I." Sobering quickly, he returned to watching the admiral pace in the small confines of the shuttle. "I appreciate the second chance, sir. It sounded like the Council wanted to give me the boot after I spoke with them. Thank you for... for letting me make things right."

Hackett made a strangled sound and nodded curtly to the man, not being able to bear that damning blue gaze of his. Clearing his throat and staring at the shuttle wall, he began his long list of orders from the Board. "Since the opportunity to actually capture Kargesh will be slim, we'll mostly be there for intel." Hackett took a small listening device from a pocket of his jacket. "Although rather cliche, the method of recording the enemy's unabridged thoughts are a good way to get the evidence we need."

"And what evidence would that be, exactly?" Shepard asked, eyeing the small device with interest.

"We'll have to make them bring up the attack on Intai'sei. Even the threat to your family would help." Hackett added, eyeing the man warily. "Now, Commander—"

"I'm aware of the purpose, Admiral. I can control myself. I won't go insane if I don't punch someone who says something foul about my wife." he said, his voice filled with bitter humour.

Hackett sighed, scratching at the white hairs covering his chin. "I know it won't be easy to listen to—"

"I'll be fine, sir." he said again, tone confident and level. Shepard's eyes held a fierce determination that made the Admiral look away once more. "Good. I trust you, Commander. I know... I know you'll handle this with grace."

Shepard nodded. "I'm glad. Now, is there anything else?"

Hackett's mouth twisted. "If are lucky and the opportunity presents itself, I'll need you to take the man down. Not kill him, of course, but wound him so that he can't get away. Now, I can't give you a gun, since they won't buy the sight of a hostage with a pistol on his hip, but..." Hackett trailed off. "You still have your knife?"

Shepard tapped his foot against the seat he stood next to. "In my boot, sir."

Hackett nodded, taking his cap off and running a hand through his hair. Even if he was sentencing Shepard to public execution, he didn't have the heart to leave the man without a weapon. Not that it mattered, in the end; he'd be dead with or without a combat knife strapped to his ankle.

* * *

Shepard's footsteps echoed loudly in the near-desolate halls of the small convoy ship. The batarians were not ones for creature comforts—the ceiling's piping wasn't even covered by metal grates, and there was only enough light to see one's own feet. It smelled old and stale, and the grey walls seemed to press down on them as they headed towards the heart of the ship.

Hackett hadn't spoken a word to him since leaving the shuttle. The man was fiercely practical and didn't seem to believe in small talk, but his absolute silence was unnerving. Shepard shook himself mentally, running through a series of what he hoped were subtle verbal prods to get the batarians talking. He hadn't figured out how to bring up his family, but decided that maybe that was for the best; bringing Tali and Sarika into this automatically made him defensive, and he needed to keep a calm head. No reason to tempt fate.

"Through this door," Hackett muttered, eyeing a decrepit pair of metal doors, locked by a flickering console. He looked over at Shepard, eyes drifting over the restraints at his wrists and then finally meeting his gaze. Shepard swore he saw fear in the man's face, and maybe even a touch of sorrow.

"Ready?" the admiral asked, and Shepard nodded. With that, Hackett blew out a breath and unlocked the door, watching it slide open with a faint screeching sound.

They came into another, shorter hallway, the batarians standing at the other end. Shepard realised that it was actually a room, but was completely devoid of furniture. The only thing in the space was a bare light fixture and rust stains on the wall.

Four batarians stood at the opposite end, Kargesh at the front. The man smiled, sharp teeth and black eyes gleaming in the dim light. "Commander. I'm happy to see you've recovered from your injuries."

Shepard's lips pulled back in a sneer, as if he was greatly offended by the comment. He heard Hackett come to a stop just behind him, and rolled his shoulders, doing his best to look defeated and betrayed. Hostages weren't meant to look calm.

The batarian's four eyes flicked over the commander's shoulder to look at Hackett. "I'm surprised you actually showed up with the terms we agreed on. Humans aren't known for their honour."

Hackett grunted but said nothing, pressing a hand to Shepard's back and giving him a slight push forward. He looked back at the Admiral, idly wondering why he didn't have an eloquent speech prepared. The man may not be talkative, but he spoke well when the situation called for it.

Kargesh took a step forward, eyeing Shepard as if he were a piece of furniture he was considering buying. "How's your daughter doing? Any accidents?"

He kept his face neutral, simply eyeing the man levelly. Kargesh seemed amused by his silence. "No? What about your wife? Is she doing well?"

When no response came, he let out a guttural laugh. "I see you've trained your dog, Hackett. Too bad he'll be of so little use to you now."

Kargesh looked to his men, a sick smile on his face before turning back around. "Now, onto business." The batarian grabbed Shepard's arm and the commander looked back at Hackett, raising a brow. But Hackett simply stood there.

Shepard looked back at Kargesh, who was beginning to haul him away. "Hackett," he said, gaze bouncing between the admiral and the batarian. He saw Hackett shake his head ever so gently, and something clicked inside his mind.

He was almost brought to his knees at the realisation, and his throat felt thick. He looked at the admiral in disbelief. "No. Hackett, n—"

"Shut up," Kargesh said, shaking his shoulder roughly and pulling him closer towards the other batarians.

Shepard shook his head, watching Hackett stand there. "How... how? Why... why would you—"

Kargesh threw him to his men, who shoved him to the ground. His cheek met cold metal, but he kept his eyes on the admiral. "No!" Rage suddenly filled him and he bucked in the grip of the batarians, feeling something cold and hard wrap around his wrists, which they'd pulled behind him. "No! Hackett!"

He got a sharp kick to the head and his vision blurred, but he was lucid enough to see the admiral turn away._ "NO! Hackett!"_

Another boot came into contact with his ear, and his body stilled against the ground. The last image that greeted him was the doors at the end of the room closing.

* * *

He heard Shepard shouting behind him, pain and rage and even fear echoing in the man's throat, but he didn't look back. Hackert opened the doors and stepped through the entrance, hearing his name half-yelled, half-sobbed, before the commander went silent, the batarians' laughter the only thing filling the room.

The doors screeched shut behind him and he collapsed against the wall, ragged breaths clawing their way out of his chest and bringing him to his knees. He leaned his forehead into the ground, shaking as the realisation of what he'd done begun to sink in.

His body shuddered and shook with pain, and a few sobs found their way out of his lungs. He knelt on the metal for what felt like an immeasurable amount of time, but he finally pushed himself off of the ground when he felt the ship begin to move. He had to get to the shuttle.

He stumbled off the ground, steadying himself on the wall. Wiping at his mouth, he looked around at the bare walls that greeted him. He knew he couldn't go back to the Orizaba without some explanation, but was at a loss as to what he could say.

The weight of the pistol at his hip caught his attention, and he pulled the Carnifex from its holster. Unfolding the gun, he eyed the weapon with something close to envy.

Hackett turned the gun in his hand, so that it faced him. The barrel seemed to almost watch him, as if silently judging his actions. He could almost taste the alloy of the gun in his mouth, the click of it against his teeth, and temptation nearly pushed the barrel towards his lips.

He swallowed, shaking his head and aiming the gun downwards. He hardly deserved death.

Pointing the gun at the muscle of his thigh, he angled it so that it appeared to have been fired by an enemy. He blew out a hard breath, steadying himself against the oncoming agony.

He pulled the trigger and cried out as the bullet bit deeply into his thigh. He fell to the ground, gunning sliding from his grip. Moaning at the fire radiating down his leg, he pulled up his omni-tool and dialed Hannah's number.

"Request—" He gritted his teeth, hearing her answer. "Immediate medical assistance. I've been—shot." he gasped, terminating the call before she could ask any questions. He closed the device and began crawling towards the shuttle-bay doors, crying out as each movement jarred his leg.

The doors seemed eternally out of his reach. His stunted, jerking movements against the ground only propelled him forward at a snail's pace, and he wondered if he'd bleed out before reaching the Kodiak.

He looked back, seeing his injured leg lie limply on the metal as the rest of his body pushed forward. Long crimson streaks marked the ground behind him as he crawled onwards. His gaze met the doors, and he realised that he could no longer hear the batarians laughing or speaking to one another. They'd taken Shepard away.

He stilled his movements, pressing his face into the cold floor of the ship. He wondered idly if he even wanted to go back to the Orizaba.

No. He couldn't die here and leave Hannah with no explanation, as much as cowardice appealed to his baser instincts. No—if he was going to do something so awful as to betray the man who'd stood by him for years, the least he could do was inform his family of his death. Even if the story he told was composed of half-truths.

_One more thing to take care of,_ his mind whispered, and he reached under himself to the front pocket of his uniform. Pulling out the small listening device, he crushed it in his palm, feeling the bite of exposed circuitry against his skin.

He wiped his hand off clumsily against the ground and once again began his agonising crawl towards the shuttle.

_I hope the Board is pleased._

* * *

A throbbing pain stabbed at the side of his head, insisting that he wake up. His body began its unpleasant ascent into consciousness, and he suddenly felt like he was falling. Shepard's body jerked and his eyes flew open. He groaned at the sick light illuminating the room he stood in.

Stood? He looked down, see his feet planted on the metal ground below him. Turning his gaze upwards, he saw his hands tied to a metal bar above his head, wrists bound by some odd metal contraption.

Looking more closely at it, he realised it was a biotic dampener. He felt the prick of needles into his wrists, delivering a drug into his bloodstream that prevented the use of biotics.

He looked around the room, seeing the same pale metal walls greeting him as they had back in the—

His mind flooded with clarity, the events prior making themselves once again known to him. He howled, pulling violently at his wrists and snarling Hackett's name. His amp flared, and he tried to force his wrists apart, but a sick pain shot up his spine and he gagged, stopping his assault on the pipe above him.

His body slumped, wrists holding his weight up and screaming for relief, but he was too angry to care. His mind kept replaying the image of Hackett walking away, the batarians crowding around him as if he were game they'd just caught.

He blew out a shuddering breath, feeling a lump forming in his throat. The betrayal wrapped itself inside his chest, crushing his lungs. He pulled on the restraints again, a guttural sound echoing in his throat. Tali's face floated into his mind, along with Sarika's. God, what would they think? What would his mother think?

"Awake, human?"

His head turned at the deep voice, seeing Kargesh walk up to the metal bars that lined one wall. He smiled when he saw the blood trickling down Shepard's arms, his violent movements chafing his wrists. He glared at the batarian but kept his mouth shut.

The man walked to the barred door, unlocking it with his omni-tool. It swung open and he walked in slowly, smile never leaving his face. "Betrayed by your own people." Kargesh laughed. "It seems human honour really is just a dream."

He pulled a weapon from his belt—Shepard's N7 combat knife. "Found this in your boot. I wonder; does the Alliance arm all their hostages?" He unsheathed the blade, studying the smooth curves of the metal. "Beautiful weapon, though. Quite handy for a fight."

Kargesh walked towards him, the knife held in an oddly peaceful manner. He pressed the flat of the blade against Shepard's cheek, smiling at the almost imperceptible flinch the commander gave. "Handed over by your own government, the people you trust, and you're still afraid to die? What could you possibly want to live for?" The man's four black eyes lit up as if he had just realised something. "Ah, your family. Yes, I can see why. Eager to get home and fuck that quarian slut of yours?"

Shepard snarled, rattling the bar above him as he strained towards the batarian. Kargesh laughed, drawing the blade down in a thin line over his cheek. Shepard felt the skin part easily and blood trickle from the gash, but he made no sound. He wouldn't give the bastard that satisfaction.

The batarian smiled sickly, wiping the blood off of the blade onto Shepard's shirt almost carelessly. Sheathing the weapon once more, Kargesh nodded to him as if they'd just had a pleasant conversation. "Always a pleasure speaking with you, Commander." He turned on his heel and closed the door, locking it absently behind him.

His body went lax once more, anger and adrenaline leaving him only with exhaustion. His closed his eyes and swallowed, feeling his bones grow heavy beneath the weight of isolation.

Shepard was going to die soon. And at present, it wasn't the worst of all possible outcomes.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15: A Bug in the System**

"Where is my son?"

The doctor glared at Hannah. "Ma'am, Admiral Hackett needs—"

"I don't give a god damn what he needs! I want to know where the hell my son is!" she barked, and the balding man backed down, side-stepping to give her access to the admiral.

The man lay in a hospital bed, thick cotton wrapped around his upper leg beneath the sheets. He seemed a little delirious, likely from the pain suppressants, but she was not in a sympathetic mood. "Where is he?" she almost snarled. When the man didn't answer right away, she grabbed his chin and forced his gaze to her. "Answer me."

Hackett blinked, frowning at her. "What?"

Her lips curled back. "Don't give me that. I know you're lucid, you bastard. Now tell me where my fucking son is!"

His eyes darted away, shame clouding his features. "The batarians... they have him, Hannah."

She shook her head. "What does that mean?"

"It means they're going to execute him." Hackett rasped, still not meeting her eyes.

Hannah stepped back, shaking her head. She had already known the answer to every question she'd asked, but denial had consumed her mind. John couldn't be dead. He _couldn't_.

She mentally shook herself, forcing the lump in her throat down as much as she could. Although her first reaction would be to burst into tears, she steeled herself against the storm. She would not let her son die because she was too busy grieving. Bringing up her omni-tool and dialing Garrus' number, she waited impatiently for the turian to pick up.

* * *

His shoulder was in agony.

Shepard wasn't sure how long he'd been tied to the bar above him, but it was enough that his shoulders and back burned with staying in such an uncomfortable position for so long.

He also had to take a piss. That was hardly something he wanted to think about, but his bladder ached insistently at him for relief. He focused his mind on the pain in his arms instead; he'd let his guts burst before handing his dignity over to the batarians.

He rattled the metal bar above him, noticing that it shook slightly with his movements. His heart sped up at the prospect of escaping, and he pulled down on the bar with all his might. When it didn't give, he jumped and brought his legs up, hooking his boots onto the piping of the ceiling.

His arms screamed at him for having to bear the weight of his whole body, but he gritted his teeth and did his best to weather the pain. He lurched upwards, letting his cuffed hands come off the bar for a moment before slamming them back down. It made a god-awful amount of noise, and he quickened his movements. He repeated slamming the metal block around his wrists into the bar, making it shake unsteadily. The skin of his wrists chafed and bled, crimson rolling down his arms and a few drops landing in his eyes.

He howled, jerking his arms and thrashing against the unforgiving bar, watching it roll and wobble in its place above him. He saw the metal on his wrists begin to warp and bend from repeatedly hammering it down onto the bar, but it wasn't coming loose.

When the bones in his wrists threatened to pop and break he stopped, letting his feet drop to the floor and gasp raggedly at the pain. He was breathing hard and sweat poured off his body, heart pumping against his rib cage.

"You idiot," he muttered, realising just how much noise he'd made. The echoes of his efforts bounced off the walls of his prison, taunting him. At least no one had—

A guttural laugh cut off that thought quickly, and he saw a guard walk up to his cell. "Trying to escape, human? You really are as stupid as I thought."

He ignored the comment, concentrating on catching his breath and ducking his head, feeling drops of blood splash into his hair and trickle downwards. _Never too late to get baptised,_ he thought darkly.

"I'm talking to you, dog. And you'll do your best to listen."

Shepard looked up, glaring at the man. "Fuck you."

The guard turned the rifle in his grip and shoved it through the bars, slamming it into Shepard's diaphragm. The breath exploded out of him and his eyes watered, the sharp ache radiating throughout his upper body. His mouth opened to invite air into his lungs, but the oxygen didn't seem to cooperate.

The batarian hooted at his desparate attempt to breathe, pulling the rifle away. "Next time I'll aim lower," he said amusedly, walking away from the bars and continuing his rounds.

Shepard finally gasped in a painful breath of air, coughing. His abdomen ached like all hell, and every intake of oxygen was torture.

Another drop of blood splashed onto his head, dripping down his ear. He coughed again, feeling something rattle inside his lungs. His head felt thick and the urge to lie down was physically painful.

He could feel something coming on, an illness growing in his chest. Shepard wondered idly if he'd be alive long enough for it to torture him.

* * *

"You are dismissed," Kargesh muttered, and the man behind him nodded and backed away.

He eyed the Hegemony's Second Fleet from his stance in his private quarter's massive window, the impressive flock of ships dubbed _Hualra'ak_—Glory. A fitting army to wage war against the humans.

He turned away, walking towards his desk to a sea of data pads that greeted him. They had various topics of information—batarian fleet movements, ammunition for ground soldiers, and near-encyclopedic amounts of intel on all batarian worlds. He had eyes on every one of his species' citizens, courtesy of the Hegemony.

They were ready. All he had to do now was bring Shepard to Kar'shan and have him publicly executed. His brothers and sisters would beat their war drums and they'd march to the Alliance's doorstep. He cared little for the outcome of the battle, only that it would be fought.

His heart sped at the prospect of war. Hopefully he'd die in battle—he had little wish to see the aftermath.

His lips curled back in a snarl at his thoughts and he roughly opened a drawer in his desk, seeing Shepard's blade sitting inside. He pulled it out, unsheathing the weapon and studying the alternating curves of the knife, both serrated and smooth.

The polymer grip was worn with use, the N7 logo on it all but rubbed off. Pleasant thoughts of gutting the man with his own knife drifted into his mind, but he pushed them away. As much as he ached to kill the Commander, a quiet death would not rally the batarians. They needed a public execution, even if the Hegemony cared little for why Shepard was branded a criminal by its own citizens.

He sighed, setting the weapon down on his desk. Every time he was in the company of the Commander, it became increasingly more difficult to keep the facade of detached sadism in place. He had grown used to that particular persona—there were even moments where he lost himself inside the mask, the line between performance and reality blurring. His men knew nothing of their leader other than that he was insane, and Kargesh hoped to keep it that way.

The compulsion to speak with Shepard again was near-maddening. He enjoyed seeing the human in pain, but Kargesh had to restrain himself—the commander was an arrogant man with a loose tongue. One wrong word would send him into a rage, and Kargesh couldn't risk killing him. He sighed, picking up the blade once more. He sheathed it and placed the weapon onto his belt, smiling faintly. He hadn't wanted to keep the knife on his person at first, but the chance to gloat at capturing the Great Commander Shepard was too good to pass up, even if only to his men.

He picked up on the report playing on the vid screen in his office, an asari speaking of the Council's decisions regarding the "unrest" between the Hegemony and the Alliance. He snorted, waving a hand and shutting the screen off. Council-bought batarian warships were lined up at the humans' doorstep, and they were calling it "unrest".

His lips curled back once more as he thought of the Council. So high and mighty, offering "less fortunate" species funding to rebuild their worlds. They spoke of grace and selflessness, but he'd seen the pitying looks they gave his people, the way they acted as if batarians owed the galaxy for the Council's "generosity" to help rebuild Kar'shan and get its citizens back on their feet. Yet food and shelter was not the only thing their credits could buy.

* * *

_"They have John."_

The simple statement echoed loudly in Garrus' mind. "Who?" He asked stupidly, brain clouding with disbelief.

Hannah sighed on the other end of the comm. "The batarians. The intel mission went FUBAR—Hackett took a shot to the leg and... and they have John." she repeated, the words wavering and unsteady.

The turian shook his head, leaning against the Main Battery's consoles. He'd returned to the Normandy under Shepard's orders; the man had told him that they'd only gather evidence against the batarians, and if truly lucky, take Kargesh as a bargaining chip for the Hegemony to stand down.

"Did they get anything? Evidence, I mean?"

"No," Hannah replied, sounding defeated. "No, the device was destroyed. We're a man short and without intel."

Garrus rubbed at his forehead, a throbbing pulse beginning to form behind his eyes. "Listen, we're on course for the Citadel right now. I'll speak with the turian Councilor and ask for help. I'll contact Liara, as well—if anyone has eyes on the Hegemony right now, it's her."

"Alright," Shepard's mother said quietly. "I'll... speak with Hackett again. If—" She swallowed hard, stopping for a moment. "If nothing turns up soon, I'll tell Tali."

Garrus nodded, even though she couldn't see it. "We'll find him. If anyone's more stubborn about not dying, it's Shepard."

"Will was the same way," Hannah whispered, and the call ended.

The turian sagged against the console when his omni-tool went silent, heart heavy. His friend—his brother, he corrected himself, couldn't die now. He silently damned the man for being so reckless. How dare that bastard leave Tali, leave Sarika? Garrus had sworn to him the day they'd taken Sarika home that he'd watch over her if anything ever happened to Shepard or his wife. Yet he'd never thought that such an oath would have to be tested so soon.

_Stop it,_ his mind snarled at him. _Shepard's not dead yet._

Lurching up from his wilted stance against the metal desk, he headed out of the Main Battery and past the mess hall, nodding to a crewman in passing. Stepping into the elevator, he punched the button for Deck II and waited impatiently for the lift to ascend.

He began forming a plan as he stood there. They'd be docked on the Citadel in an hour, and he'd go straight to Sparatus. Although the Councilor didn't approve of Garrus' close relationship with Shepard, the man respected him and his position as a Spectre. Hopefully that would be enough for Garrus get... something, anything, from him. If it helped him find Shepard, he'd gladly take it.

In the meantime, he'd talk to Liara. The woman had eyes and ears on half of the galaxy, and if he was lucky, she'd have something on the Hegemony's shipyard.

The lift dinged and he stepped out, turning briskly and heading towards the War Room. He smiled faintly at the empty anteroom before it; he'd taken that ridiculous security check point out and used the room for storage instead.

Garrus passed the massive circular console in the middle of the room, seeing the holograms above it wink and float around in his periphery. Arriving at the QEC, he closed the door behind him and punched in Liara's contact information. The machine fuzzed and whirled for a moment, the asari's form slowly coalescing into blue pixels.

"I know what happened," the woman said before her hologram fully materialised. Garrus blinked, taken aback by Liara's statement.

"What?"

Her image crystallised, and a small, sad smile tugged at her lips. "I just got an update on Shepard's Alliance records. He's been listed as MIA. I did a bit of digging and... saw the mission report." Liara shook her head, eyes solemn. "Unfortunately, I haven't had much luck finding him."

The turian stared at her, disbelief written across plated features. "This just happened an hour ago and you already have the full briefing?"

Liara smiled. "I've kept myself quite informed on this whole mess, Garrus. At any rate, I've been trying to find the comm number for the convoy ship Hackett and Shepard met the batarians on, but it's not well-known. Only the Hegemony's leaders have access to it and their encryption codes aren't the easiest to crack."

"Do you ever take a break?"

She laughed. "I'll tell you the same thing Shepard did when you asked him that—"

"Not until the job's done," Garrus said quietly, a frown forming. "Though I hope this time, his definition of 'done' doesn't end with him dying."

* * *

"This is bullshit!"

Sparatus glared at him. "Watch it, Vakarian. I've heard enough of that from Shepard. I certainly don't need it from you."

Garrus sighed, rubbing a hand across his forehead. "I need access to the Hegemony's logs, Councilor." He made sure to lay on the near-begging tone that usually made the turian councilor preen himself in place.

It didn't seem to work. The man's eyes hardened, and he sat forward in his chair, talons flush to the desk in front of him. "I already told you no. I'm having a difficult enough time keeping the batarian councilor calm through this mess. If he finds out that I'm handing the Hegemony's intel to an intimate of Shepard's, I'll have a diplomatic incident on my hands."

"And you'll have an even bigger one if Shepard's executed. You think all the races he helped during the War will just sit back? Another war will break out!"

Sparatus shook his head. "No, the Alliance will look like the victim and the batarians will stand down once they see how many people they've angered with Shepard's death."

Garrus' eyes widened. "What? You're just going to sit here while they kill Shepard? That bastard saved all of you! How could you think that this will end well?"

The turian councilor sighed, eyes communicating to Garrus that he couldn't possibly understand the gravity of the situation. "Vakarian, Shepard's death is something that I truly regret, but it is not without purpose. He is a man of sacrifice; what greater honour could he give to the galaxy by ensuring continued peace amongst its races?"

"He isn't dead yet," Garrus snarled, words holding more conviction than he felt. "Fine, to hell with you. I'll look for answers elsewhere." He turned on his heel and headed for the exit to the man's office.

"Vaka—Garrus," Sparatus began, and he turned. "I know this will be hard, but you'll see in time how this is the best decision for all of us."

Garrus said nothing, turning once again and shoving through the doors. He stalked down the hallways of the turian embassy, people practically jumping out of his way when they saw the look in his face.

Betrayal weighed heavy on his heart. He'd always been leery of trusting the government, but in the back of his mind, Garrus had always believed that they'd at least stand by the people who'd saved their asses more than once.

_That's what you get for trusting politicians,_ he thought darkly, entering one of the nearby elevators and punching in the Normandy's docking bay.

There were a few other people in the lift, though they backed away from him when he entered. Garrus wondered idly what he looked like when he saw a turian woman eye him warily and move into the corner. He rubbed at his face, doing his best to look less murderous. Although he hadn't come to the Citadel to get laid, old habits died hard.

He waited impatiently for the elevator to come to a stop, rolling his shoulders. Now he could only rely on the information Liara would give him. It was still a fair amount of intel, but it infuriated him that the galaxy's own government wouldn't protect their hero.

_Shepard did fuck up pretty bad, _his mind offered, but he ignored it. Mistake or no, the man didn't deserve to be killed by the Hegemony.

The lift opened a moment later and he quickly stepped out, not wanting to meet the woman's gaze. He'd gotten used to people backing away from him over the years, but his ego still took a hit whenever he was reminded that women didn't seem to enjoy his company.

He shook his head as he headed towards his ship, getting his mind out of the gutter. He'd wallow in self-pity about his mediocre sex life later.

Stopping in front of the entrance doors, he waved his omni-tool at the console to unlock it. When it beeped at him in denial, he growled and tried to unlock it again. It seemed that technology didn't even like him.

"Access denied." said the door, and he swore under his breath. When he tried once more, the returning beep was loud and angry.

"This dock has been locked down. Please contact the nearest C-Sec officer for more information."

* * *

"Hannah," Hackett pleaded, seeing the woman pace frantically in the med-bay. She ignored him, not looking up from the metal tiles she appeared to be counting.

"Hannah, is this really how we should handle this?" he began carefully. "If we go in guns blazing, and for one man—"

"That _one man_ is my son—It's John, for Christ's sake! He's the face of the Alliance. Why would we destroy that?"

"He's... Hannah, _he's_ destroying us. He stayed alive during the War because of the shit he pulled off, and I can't put into words how much I respect the man for it. But... I'm sorry. I can't ask the Board for extra warships. It won't end well. People will be killed on both sides, the batarians will start firing on the Alliance, and we might not even get Shepard. Hell, we don't even know where he is right now! The convoy ship took off into batarian space, and we don't have any eyes there."

The woman looked close to tears. "You can't give up on him! He's still alive; in twenty-four hours, he might not be!"

Hackett sat up the best he could, glaring at her. "You think I don't know that? That I wouldn't want anything other than to send half the Alliance warships into batarian space and blow them to hell? But we can't do that! We have millions of lives to think about! I'm not going to ask for a war to save one man, even Shepard! It's better if he's dead!" He clenched his teeth, realising that he was speaking to Shepard's mother. Bracing himself, he waited for the woman to tear him into pieces.

It didn't come. He looked up, seeing her leaning against the wall, tears running down her cheeks. Her eyes took on a dull, vacant quality to them.

"I can't lose him, Steven," she whispered, so quietly that he barely heard her. "I can't lose John. I need him, his family needs him. He needs to be there for Tali, and for his daughter." She gazed over at him, and the look on her face made him wish he'd eaten that bullet on the convoy ship when he had the chance. "He's all I have left."

Hackett opened his mouth, trying to form words. He groped for something to say, anything other than a denial to help. He wanted to—God, did he want to—but he had not climbed the Alliance's political ladder by dragging personal feelings along with him. He had always envied Hannah and Anderson for that, being able to hang onto their loved ones while fighting wars in boardrooms that the rest of humanity didn't even know existed.

But now, when he'd finally let emotion temper his decisions, he'd be damned either way. Save one man at the cost of millions of lives, or save millions of lives at the cost of the friendships he held closest.

He closed his eyes, throat feeling thick. "Please, Hannah. I'm sorry, I... I can't help you."

He heard the shift of a body as the woman straightened herself. Without a word, she exited the med-bay, the doors closing softly behind her.

Hackett slowly lowered himself back down onto the hospital bed. Images of the commander's wife and daughter flashed in his mind, grief written across their features when they realised that Shepard was dead. Images of Hannah, broken by the weight of having to bear both the death of her husband and her son.

_Should've eaten that bullet while you had the chance, _his mind repeated to him.

* * *

The man seemed to be on the verge of pissing himself.

"Why is the Normandy locked down?" Garrus snarled, stalking towards the C-Sec officer. The man shook his head, eyes wide. "I don't know! We only got orders from the Council to keep it locked—"

The turian strode away from him, not bothering to hear the rest. The officer shouted after him, but he ignored it—he was too busy seething.

The Council had locked down the Normandy, which translated to a very large 'fuck you' to Garrus. He knew the slippery situation the galaxy was currently in, but it was like they _wanted_ Shepard d—

He stopped in his tracks, replaying that last thought in his mind. The Council and the Alliance Board seemed pretty adamant about leaving Shepard for dead. A small part of his brain whispered that maybe that had been their intentions all along.

He shook his head and kept walking. No, Hackett has been with Shepard when the mission had gone to hell. Hackett would never hand the commander over for politics.

_Are you sure?_

He arrived at the elevator and stabbed at the buttons, doing his best to look calm. His mind whirred, twisting and turning thoughts of betrayal. They couldn't, could they? Shepard was the galaxy's symbol, their idealistic leader. Why would they throw that away?

Yet it made more sense the other way around. Kill one man to stop a war, even Shepard. _Hackett was the only other one there—how fortunate that he has no one to go against his word._

Garrus' heart sped up. No, no. Hackett wouldn't do that. He respected Shepard too much to throw him to the dogs. He shifted his stance in the lift, nervous energy building under his skin. He idly wished for something to shoot.

He watched the elevator's control panel track the lift's movements, and he saw it speeding towards the Council chambers. He quickly jabbed at the controls, re-directing it to the Presidium.

He couldn't go to Sparatus. If he barged in and shouted at the man, he'd only have more restrictions put on him, and then he'd never be able to help Shepard. _However much I want to go in there and beat the shit out of him. _No, he needed go someplace safe, somewhere he could think in peace.

He saw the other occupants of the elevator huff and glare at the change in course, lengthening the already tedious ride towards their destination. The only thing stopping them from complaining was the Spectre symbol on Garrus' shoulder and the multitude of scars that lined one half of his face.

_Suppose looking like a psychopath is good for one thing, _he thought with bitter humour. Although his genitals might protest at the notion, scaring passersby at least allowed him more freedom.

He leaned against the wall behind him, rubbing at his temples and attempting to still his mind while he waited. The lift was painfully silent; he could hear each occupant breathing anxiously, small shifts loud in the deafening quiet.

His omni-tool beeped and everyone jumped, eyeing him like he'd just pulled his gun out. With a sigh, he opened it. When he saw the short message appear on his screen, he let out a rather unflattering grunt of surprise.

**_I know where he is._**

* * *

Garrus hurriedly keyed up the QEC with Liara's comm, practically bouncing in place. She knew where Shepard was and he couldn't open the link fast enough.

"You don't have to use that old thing, you know." an amused voice said behind him, and he spun around, hand flying to his hip.

A hologram of Liara stood in the middle of the living room, pixels fuzzing in and out whenever she moved. The drone communicator hung in the centre of her body, the mechanical ball projecting her digital avatar about Shepard's luxurious apartment.

"Don't do that," the turian said irritably.

She smiled at his annoyed expression. "Afraid of a woman being alone with you?"

"Where is he?" Garrus asked bluntly, ignoring her comment. His bones jumped and twitched under his skin with the urge to act on any information they had. The thought of Shepard being beaten or tortured fuelled that energy, making it difficult to stand still for any length of time.

Liara got straight to business. The woman was succinct if nothing else. "I know where he is. I found the ship that he's on."

His eyes widened. "When can we get him?" The prospect of doing something productive nearly made him sprint out of the room.

Liara shook her head. "It's more complicated than that. He's in batarian space and in the company of a full Hegemony fleet. We'd lose too many people attacking now."

"Then what can we do?" Garrus asked impatiently. "What's the point of knowing where he is if we can't do anything about it?"

"I didn't say that," the asari replied, rather testily. "I know how to get into their network. From there, I can track where the batarians will be taking him—which will likely be Kar'shan—and find out when the best time would be to send someone in to break him out. It'll have to be more of an infiltration than an attack; firing on them will only start a war."

Garrus nodded. "You can do this right now?"

"I can try." The pixelated woman pulled up her omni-tool and rapidly swiped her fingers across the interface. The screen on her device expanded and floated to the centre of the room, large enough that Garrus could see the complex lines of code that she was processing. Numbers and letters whizzed by at blinding speeds, so quickly that his visor barely had time to process them all—they were hardly the simple unlocking protocols he was used to using. The ones before him could access the Councilor's personal computers—he wondered how much that hacking program would cost.

He watched her open a link to an unknown computer base, likely the batarian's ship mainframe. The code slowly began to tick and whirl, pulling at different pieces of code to unlock the computer without damaging it or drawing attention. All the while, Liara's face was buried in her omni-tool, fingers pulling and pushing on keys with fast, precise movements.

After a silent few moments, the code turned an inviting green and the ship's database opened up, revealing thousands of different data files and caches. Liara made a small noise, and he looked over at her digitised form. "What is it?"

"Look at the programs they use—it's all Council technology. I knew they'd given the batarians supplies after the war, but... this is extremely well-encrypted. They've got firewalls for every file of information." She stopped her musings for a moment and pushed a few more keys on her glowing forearm. Garrus watched eleven different files pull away from the massive data bank and zoom to the forefront of the screen.

"These are all the files they have that mention Shepard's name. Now I just have to sort through all of them to find which one tells me about their flight times and destination." Liara explained, eyes flicking over each glowing folder. "This may take a while."

"Will they be able to see this happening?" Garrus asked, his own gaze travelling over the green files floating in the apartment living room.

"Not if I'm careful. They'll only be alerted if I breach the false firewall."

"They have false firewalls?" He was surprised—layered encryption wasn't cheap.

"About four or five of them for each file," she said, a dark amusement colouring her voice. "I have to sift through the code of each firewall to find out which one is a trap and which one will give me access to the data."

"Ah." he replied delicately. "Do you, er, need any help?"

"Sure—get started on this one." Liara swiped her hand through the air and a file flew towards his direction. "Start sorting and mark down each false firewall on your omni-tool. I'll give you the program to remotely access the code for each one."

She transferred a file to him and got straight to work, flicking through the file that she'd already begun searching.

He shrugged, opening a random firewall program. The holographic screen in front of him was suddenly flooded with letters and numbers, which constantly rearranged themselves at an alarming rate. The code was changing itself, dividing and shifting. Every line or section he spotted would break up and connect with other lines a second later.

"Uh... what am I looking for, again?"

"A loop program in the code," Liara replied absently, not bothering to look away from her screen. "You have to track the code's movements and find the constant—there should be one line that never breaks up, only moves around. That's the loop, which means that the firewall is false—if you activate it, it'll run over and over until it fries the file and destroys the data. Not to mention alert the Hegemony."

Garrus swallowed. Never had he felt so inadequate when given a technical problem. "What if I don't find the constant?"

"Then it's either real, or you're not looking hard enough."

"...Uh-huh. You do this for a living?"

The asari simply nodded, waving a hand in his direction that suggested he get to work. He did as he was told.

* * *

"Sir?"

Kargesh turned, seeing one of his technicians standing in front of him warily. "Yes?" Thoughts and images of a previous life drained away from his mind, bitterness and exhaustion replacing the emptiness it had left in his brain.

"There, ah..." He paused, swallowing. "There seems to be something wrong with the servers."

"And?" he asked impatiently.

The man blinked, unnerved by his response. "W-well, we aren't sure what it is exactly. It's not a disturbance, really." Kargesh gave him a look when he didn't elaborate, and the man shook his head, hands raising. "I-I don't... it's not really even a problem—"

"Then why are you telling me?"

"Er... I was told to, sir."

Kargesh rubbed at his temples. "What is the problem, Specialist?"

"All of the files just came online. There's no sign of intrusion, they're just... all sitting there. There isn't any virus in the system and none of the files are open, they've just been called up."

Kargesh brushed past the man, no longer wanting to bother with the idiot. He headed out of his office, hearing the man grunt in surprise behind him. "You may leave my quarters now," he barked over his shoulder, and heard a hasty "yessir!" call after him.

He was hardly in the mood for disturbances, but if there was anything wrong with the ship, he preferred to see the problem rather than be told about it. Especially by a snivelling man that flinched at every move he made.

He was used to people being afraid of him—he'd made sure that his reputation was not a friendly one—but thoughts of _her_ seeing him like this filled him with shame. He shook his head, turning down the hall to the Engineering Deck. He'd deal with his musings when he had strong liquor in his hand.

He entered the room, noting that several of his crew looked nervous. "What's going on?" he asked, more harshly than he'd intended, and a few of them flinched.

One of the more senior crew members spoke up, her four eyes holding enough confidence for Kargesh to take her seriously. "Just a minor blip in the system, sir. We'll have it fixed soon."

"I heard there was an issue with the data caches," he said, ignoring her rather dismissive tone. He ran his fingers over the various consoles that stood in the centre of the room as he walked towards her.

The woman nodded, and he noted that she didn't back away from him when he advanced in the small room. "Not really. It's just a small glitch—"

"It was of enough concern that someone was ordered to inform me." The woman seemed to sense his irritation and cleared her throat.

"I apologise for the disturbance, sir. I assure you, it isn't anyth—"

A computer blared an angry horn and the room jumped. Kargesh's eyes flicked to one screen and saw red covering the holograph.

"Uh, sir?" A man said behind him. "There's someone in the system. And they're gaining access to Shepard's files."

* * *

"How do you do this every day?" Garrus groaned, looking away from the screen for a moment and rubbing at his eyes. He was getting a terrible headache from staring at numbers for... four hours, according to his omni-tool's clock.

"I usually don't. My work tends to be a lot more boring than this." Liara replied offhandedly. "There, I've got a third one done."

He snorted. He was still sifting through the first one he'd opened and the asari was almost done. At least she was good at her job.

He turned back to his screen, seeing the letters and numbers blur together. Mind-numbing boredom seemed to be crippling his ability to think properly. With a sigh, he returned to searching.

Garrus had always thought of Shepard as a brother, but if this went on for much longer, he'd consider going to the man's funeral instead.

"By the Goddess!"

He turned towards Liara, surprised at her sudden shift in tone. "What happened?"

"I don't know! The firewall just went live for some reason! I-I must have activated something!" She smashed her fingers desperately into her omni-tool, trying to shut down the document before the batarians were alerted. "Come on..."

He walked over to her position quickly, looking over a pixelated shoulder to see her screen. The characters on the holographic screen fuzzed and warped in front of a backdrop of angry red. They swirled around one another like bugs, unpleasantly reminding him of Collector swarms.

The numbers and letters suddenly went still, and Liara said something foul under her breath. "I'm locked out. They saw. And they know what files I was trying to access."

His heart thudded painfully in his chest as he stared at the dead screen. "What does that mean?" he asked, although he already knew the answer.

"They'll kill Shepard if they think someone is close to breaking in. And that's exactly what we just did."


	16. Chapter 16

A/N: Soo...

Don't kill me.

* * *

**Chapter 16: Regret**

Hannah leaned back into the hard seat of the shuttle, watching Rannoch's surface slowly rise towards her out of the small window.

She had, throughout her career, informed countless people about the death of loved ones. It was never pleasant, but she'd managed to let go of all the guilt tied up in breaking countless families with the news. Yet now, the anxiety curling in her chest seemed unbearable.

She had to tell Tali that Shepard was missing. Garrus had informed her of Liara's botched attempt to gain access to the convoy ship's files, and the little hope that had rested in her heart slowly drained away.

Thoughts of her lone grandchild filled her mind. How was she to tell a five year old that her daddy wasn't coming home?

She swallowed, forcing down tears. Hackett had offered to accompany her, despite his injured leg, but she'd flatly refused. She wasn't going to ask for his help after he'd denied any aid to save John. She'd let him stew in guilt—she hoped it broke him.

"Ma'am?" The pilot asked hesitantly. The man's eyes had a sympathetic shine to them that made her want to burst into tears. Anger flared at the thought of losing control in front of a stranger, and she let her rage fill her voice when she spoke to him.

"What?" Hannah replied harshly, glad when the friendly glean on his face left, replaced by a professional coldness.

"We're landing in five," he said quietly, turning back to the shuttle's interface.

Her heart clenched painfully in her chest and she gripped the sides of her seat, hard. Hannah closed her eyes and breathed deeply, trying to calm herself, but it was of no use. Her mind was consumed with thoughts of Tali grieving, of Sarika's beautiful face scrunched with sorrow. Even if Hannah had not fully grasped what the loss of her son meant just yet, she was certain that his wife and daughter would catch on fairly quickly.

She watched the shuttle door open, blasting in arid heat. She stood up shakily, smoothing her jacket. The pilot eyed her carefully, his face silently asking if she needed help, but she waved him off with a barely audible "thank you" and exited the aircar.

The Shepard House stood not twenty metres from here, looking peaceful and serene. She almost couldn't walk towards it, unable to bear the thought of turning such a haven into a house of grief. But Duty called.

Rusty dirt crunched beneath her boots as she slowly made her way to the event horizon. As soon as she knocked on that door, there was no going back.

Hannah headed up the short path that lead to the front door, seeing their aircar parked close by. Tali and Sarika were back at home now. She didn't know if that was a relief or not.

She stepped up to the door, raising her knuckles to rap against the metal. Just as she was about to knock, the door opened, and she saw Tali appear in the front hall, calling over her shoulder to whom Hannah assumed was Raan—the voice calling back was too far into the house for her to hear properly.

"Oof!" The quarian bumped into her before she could move out of the way. Tali grasped Hannah's arms, eyes wide with confusion as she pulled away and realised who she'd run into. "Hannah?"

Tali stepped back into the house, confusion being replaced with a wide-eyed fear. "Why... what's going on? Why aren't you with Shepard?"

The look on Hannah's face was unmistakable, and Tali swallowed, eyes never leaving her mother-in-law's. She was silent a for long minute, mouth forming unheard words.

"What..." she whispered after a moment. "What happened?"

"The batarians have him. They..." she trailed off, unable to finish the sentence.

"What does that mean?" the other woman breathed.

"Honey... I'm sorry." Hannah reached out a hand to comfort her daughter-in-law, but Tali jerked away as the words sunk in.

The quarian shook her head violently, eyes bright. "He's not dead. He _isn't_." Her teeth clenched on the last few syllables, and her face contorted in anger. "He promised he would come home."

"Tali, he... I don't think he'll—" she choked. "I don't think he'll be coming home this time."

Tali didn't say anything for a long time. She simply stood there, staring at the other woman for what seemed like hours. Hannah could hear the distant chatter of a vid-screen inside, and the happy call of birds and animals as they went about their business, ignorant to the life that was slowly draining away right in front of her. The quarian's face had almost froze, the anger and confusion static on her features. Only her eyes changed—they began to dull, losing whatever bright sheen they had, whatever vibrance that had been held within silver irises.

Finally, the facade of rage cracked and broke. Tali slowly curled in on herself, her body leaning against the doorframe. Her mouth opened, but no sound came out, silent grief tightening her throat until she couldn't breathe. Her arms wrapped themselves around her slim form and she began to rock, her legs sinking towards the ground.

Hannah reached out once more, trying to steady the traumatised quarian, but she was dead weight in her arms. Tali slumped to the floor, her knees braced against the warm rug that decorated their front doorstep. Her body shook and the breath shuddered out of her, but still no sound escaped her lips. Her eyes were wide with denial, and she seemed to be almost choking on her grief.

"No," she rasped finally, her words barely audible. "No, no, no... He promised. He _promised_. He—" A sob clawed its way out of her throat and she doubled over, a hand clasped over her mouth. Whimpers escaped between her fingers, and her body shook as if it were physically trying to expel the pain.

"Tali?" Hannah heard Raan call from inside the house, the older quarian appearing in the front hall a moment later. Pale eyes took in the sight before her—her niece curled up on the floor and Hannah holding her, cries coming from both women.

Her face ran flush with dread, and she shook her head in denial. "Oh, no. No, no." She ran over to Tali, comforting hands grasping her shoulders. "What happened to him, child?"

"The—" Hannah began, forcing words around the sobs blocking her throat. "The batarians... they got him."

Raan met her gaze over Tali's convulsing shoulder, eyes wide with fear. If Shepard was dead, she didn't know if her daughter-in-law would be able to hold herself together. Hannah had barely been able to when Will died.

As if summoned by the two women's thoughts, Sarika padded into the front hallway, the toy Normandy hanging limply in one small hand.

"Mama? What's wrong?"

* * *

"I said move, human!"

Another barking cough rattled in his chest as he knelt on the ground, barely holding back sobs of relief. One of the guards had released him, and he'd spent the last five minutes relishing every moment that he didn't have to hold his arms above his head.

He was definitely sick. He wheezed with each breath and had struggled against coughing fits for so long that he had begun to gag whenever they came on. The fact that his shoulders and arms screamed with every movement he made didn't help, either.

A boot connected with his ribs, lancing sharp pain down his freshly-healed side. "Get up now or I'll put you back on that bar."

Shepard blinked, staring down at the metal block that wrapped around both wrists, their sides covered with dried blood and skin. He got to his feet awkwardly, head swimming. If not for the guard sharply jerking him forward with a fistful of his shirt, he'd have fallen down again. _Thank God for small mercies._

He stumbled forwards as fast as he could, having difficulty keeping up with the batarian's pace. He shuddered again; the cell had been cold, and frost had begun settle in his bones. A cough escaped his throat and his head pounded back in anger. He was beginning to hope that the guard was bringing him to an execution.

The batarian pushed through a rusty door. The room they entered was dimly lit, similar to the rest of the convoy ship. Shepard wondered if they'd made the ship look so disturbing on purpose.

The guard dragged him further inside and shoved him to his knees. Only one other body occupied the dank space—a man stood facing a rather large window, back ramrod straight and completely silent. The only batarian he'd seen that looked that imposing and arrogant was Kargesh.

His guess was a good one, it seemed; the batarian turned, revealing the sallow features of his captor. Shepard had always had difficulty telling batarians apart, but this man stood out amongst the rest—he looked to be almost a king, elegant clothing adorning his body while his subordinates wallowed in the bare minimum of essentials. His face held a cold, imperial sadism that would've unnerved Shepard had he not seen it a dozen times already. His four black eyes were filled with dark intelligence and a silent rage that reminded him of a ticking time bomb.

Kargesh pursed yellowed lips, gaze flicking over Shepard with detached interest. "You are ill," he commented.

Shepard rolled his eyes, doing his best to suppress a cough and instead, tried to enjoy the time that he wasn't hooked up to a cell bar.

The man seemed amused with the silence, as he always did. "So closed-mouthed. Did the Alliance really train you so well, or are you simply too stupid to speak for yourself?"

Shepard smiled back at the man, teeth gleaming against a dirtied face. "I only talk to those worth the effort."

Kargesh laughed outright at that, and the commander could even detect a hint of insanity in the man's voice. "The dog knows a trick, it seems!" The guard behind him barked out a laugh, but was quickly silenced by a glare from Kargesh. The towering batarian began to pace in front of Shepard's kneeling form, hands crossed behind his back.

"For a man who was thrown to the enemy so easily by his own government, they seem quite adamant on getting you back."

Shepard did his best to keep his face composed, simply staring at Kargesh. Of all the things he'd been expecting, it wasn't this.

"Unfortunately, they are about as intelligent as they look. Hacking doesn't seem to be their strong suit."

"So?" Shepard spoke up. "You dragged me in here to tell me that I'm not being broken out?"

The man gave him a poisonous smile. "No. I dragged you in here to enjoy the view for a moment—I found myself rather bored and wanted something pleasant to think on." He shook his head, smile growing as he looked down at Shepard's bound wrists. "You seem to have accomplished torturing yourself without any help from my guards or I." Sharp teeth flashed for a second before he turned to the guard, waving a hand dismissively. "Put him on the shuttle. I want to get to that planet as soon as possible."

The guard nodded, hauling Shepard roughly to his feet. His head swam again and his vision blurred for an uncomfortable moment before he focused again, another cough forcing its way out of his lungs. He wondered what planet Kargesh had been speaking of, but was too exhausted to care. As long as he didn't have to be chained to the bar again he didn't particularly give a damn.

* * *

"Daddy's not coming home?"

Tali buried her face in her daughter's hair, holding her tightly. The breath shuddered out of her. "We don't know for sure, but... I don't—" She swallowed. "I don't... think so," Tali forced out, body shaking with the effort to hold in her grief.

She heard her daughter sniffling, voice thick. "Why?"

"The batarians have him right now," Hannah said, speaking from her position on the couch beside Tali. Her hand came up to stroke Sarika's hair. "And they don't want to give him back."

"Why can't we go get him?" Sarika asked angrily, pulling away from Tali to look at her grandmother. Her tone was one of incredulity, as if she was surprised no one had thought of that earlier. Her daughter's indignant question almost made Tali break into a smile.

Hannah laughed sadly. "We're trying to, honey. But the Alliance doesn't want to start a war with the batarians, so they have to be very careful with how they get your father." She didn't add that Hackett had denied any help whatsoever, but she'd tell Tali that later; the woman had more than enough on her hands already.

Sarika's features scrunched up in anger, expression clearly indicating that if she were in charge of things, her daddy would be back already.

Tali stood up, making sure that her daughter was secure in her arms. "Let's go get a snack. We can talk with grandma after." She needed a break from this, a moment of solitude to think. And the best she could get right now would be to take her daughter into the next room.

"I've got her," Raan insisted, standing up. She took Sarika's tiny form from her arms, giving her niece a significant look. "Talk to Hannah, Tali." she said quietly, walking towards the kitchen. She swallowed, watching Raan dip her head to listen to something Sarika was saying, shifting the little girl's weight on her hip as she headed to the fridge.

A hand came to rest on her shoulder and she jumped, seeing Hannah looking at her, eyes soft. The dam inside her threatened to break and she looked away from the comforting woman. "I need to go after him." she whispered.

"Tali, you can't—"

"Don't tell me what I can and can't do!" She yelled suddenly, startling Hannah. "He's my husband!"

"And he's my son!" Hannah shouted back, then shook her head and sighed, lowering her voice. "Garrus, Liara and the rest of the crew are doing their best to find him—"

"And I can help with that!"

The older woman grabbed onto her shoulders, fingers digging into her skin. "You need to stay here. _For Sarika,"_ she added sternly. Her eyes flicked towards the kitchen for a moment before looking back at Tali. Her blue gaze was chillingly like John's. "You have to be here for her. Make it normal as you can. If you join up with the Normandy, even with your daughter in tow..." She trailed off, searching for the right words. "Tali, what if... what if they bring back his—body?" she forced out. "If that's what they find? The batarians... they won't be easy on him. If Sarika sees him like that..."

Tali pressed a hand to her mouth, shaking her head, though it was more in denial of Hannah's last statement than to argue. "I..." Tears escaped the pool in her eyes and slipped silently down her face. "Do you know what the last words I said to him were? I yelled at him for not coming home. I blamed him for not being here. _I yelled at him,"_ she repeated, sobbing into her hand. The last words she'd ever said to her husband were ones of bitterness. She'd even hung up on him. And now she could never apologise.

Hannah's eyes narrowed. "Don't add guilt into this. John knew why you yelled at him and would never hold it against you." The older woman's hand touched Tali's cheek and her tone softened. "He wouldn't want you to torture yourself over this."

Tali pushed her hand away, backing away from any comfort as her eyes began to dull. "I'm going to help Raan in the kitchen," she said, tone devoid of any emotion.

Hannah watched her join Raan in helping make lunch, silently getting out plates and utensils. She leaned heavily against the wall, closing her eyes and forcing back yet another round of tears.

She was not someone that gave up easily—her son still had a chance to come out of this alive. But with the Council locking down the Normandy, Hackett refusing aid, and Garrus and Liara left empty-handed, optimism was only a naive notion, a hollow dream.

John was dead. And now, Hannah could see the same thing slowly happening to her daughter-in-law.

* * *

If the guard pulled any harder on his hair, he'd end up with a bald patch on his head.

He was being lead to the Shuttle Bay of the ship, presumably to be thrown into a shuttle. He was barely holding himself upright as they headed to their destination, if you could even call it standing; he was almost doubled over with how low the batarian was holding his head, and his cuffed hands offered no balance. He had fallen down once, which had cost him a few bruised ribs from a boot and a vicious jab to the head.

Shepard looked down at the block encompassing his wrists, seeing small dents and cracks in the metal. He'd damaged his irons, but not enough for him to break loose. Yet.

A good smash to the guard's head might do the trick, or at least get one arm free. He had to work up the strength to do that first, however; cold, hunger, exhaustion, injury and illness were all working against him. He needed either adrenaline or rage behind a strike for it to have any affect, and thought of dying right now didn't particularly get his blood pumping. His body had given up without telling him, and the physical apathy now left him to a fate of a slow, torturous death at best.

The only option left to him was rage. He stumbled once more, snarling at the guard as the man jerked him forward, scalp screaming at him for the pain to stop. He focused on the pain as they came to the Shuttle Bay doors, letting it fuel him.

His mind groped for something else. He thought of Kargesh's threat to Sarika, of the way he spoke about Tali.

_Tali. _He thought of her grieving and raging that he was dead. Thought of never being able to touch her again, or what would happen to her if Kargesh got ahold of her and Sarika and he wasn't there to protect them.

His lips curled back at that, mind now filled with grizzly images of a dead family. Shepard shrunk away from those thoughts, too gruesome to be useful. He searched his mind, and came up with the very reason that he was here in the first place.

Hackett.

The guard tugged on his head once more and threw him into the shuttle. He landed heavily on the metal grating of the floor, his whole body aching from relentless abuse.

Shepard slowly got his feet under him, discreetly enough that the guard didn't pay attention to his movements. The batarian was instead speaking to a few others that had arrived, and he heard the other men heading into the shuttle. A moment later, he saw an expensive boot step right next to his ear.

Apprehension filled him when he realised that Kargesh would be on this flight. The man was a good fighter, and had considerable biotic ability under his belt. Shepard might be better at close quarters combat, but not when he was tired and sick.

"Start up the shuttle," Kargesh ordered. "I want this transfer done as quickly as possible." The man put a boot to Shepard's head, tilting it enough so that he could see the batarian standing over him. Kargesh smiled for a moment before relaxing his foot and sitting down in one of the shuttle's seats.

One other guard sat down in the shuttle and Shepard felt the vehicle rumble as the engines powered up. The batarians began speaking with each other, none even so much as looking in his direction.

He took a deep breath, suppressing a cough. If he stayed still on the floor long enough to gather what strength he had left, they wouldn't realise an attack until it was hopefully too late.

He closed his eyes, focusing his mind as he knelt on the cold grate of the floors. He flooded his brain with anger, letting it consume his being. He felt his muscles twitch with the urge to punch something.

He thought of Kargesh, of Hackett. He clenched his teeth, eyes opening once more.

The shuttle rocked and he hissed as his whole body jerked on the floor. His bones were beginning to feel like glass.

"We're entering atmosphere, sir," the pilot said over his shoulder, and Kargesh grunted.

"Good." A laugh escaped him and he tapped Shepard's ribs with a boot. "We'll transfer you to another cage and arrive at Kar'shan in no time."

Shepard remained silent, wondering when the best time would be. It would have to be soon—if they were planetside, who knew what other forces they had on the ground.

No. He'd kill the guards in here and take the shuttle. Then he'd fly to... not the Alliance. A growl rose on his throat but he resisted the urge to let it sound.

He couldn't go back to Rannoch, not until Kargesh was dealt with. The Council was not an appealing option, and a large part of him suspected that they had something to do with his hand-off to the Hegemony.

He could go to Wrex. Rally the krogan. He wouldn't win any love for that move, however; starting the first war in ten years was a mistake that would plunge the galaxy into disaster. The prospect of battle appealed very little to him, anyway—asking innocent people to die in a war over his own life seemed needlessly selfish.

The Normandy would always be a haven for him, but he had no clue where Garrus had taken the ship; a day had passed already and the turian could be long gone from the Citadel.

His continued silence seemed to anger the guard, and he felt the butt of the batarian's rifle bite into his shoulder blade. "You deaf, dog? Respond when you're spoken to."

Shepard spun from his position on the floor, swinging his cuffed hands and knocking the guard's gun aside. He then slammed the metal around his wrists into the man's face, feeling bone and skin give way under the blow.

The batarian cried out and fell to the ground, clutching at his face. Another guard came up behind him and he brought his shoulder down as he turned, ramming it into the batarian's rib cage. The breath exploded out of the man and he stumbled back, dazed.

Before Shepard could move to attack Kargesh, he was slammed into the shuttle's wall, the cold metal of a gun barrel pressed into his throat. "Move and I put a bullet in you," the batarian snarled, all civility gone from his voice.

Shepard did as he was told, eyes flitting around the small compartment of the shuttle, looking for something to use. His gaze landed on the door's lever, and he realised that Kargesh had him up against the shuttle's door. His mind quickly assessed the likelihood of him flying a shuttle out of Hegemony space and scrapped the idea—he didn't have the strength to kill Kargesh. But he did have the strength to run.

Shepard brought up his foot and stomped downwards onto the man's boot, making him howl in pain. He lunged for the lever and forced it down, the door sliding open and revealing an arid landscape far below the clouds.

He smashed the cuffs hard into the doorframe one last time to loosen them before running for his only chance at freedom.

"No!" Kargesh roared, hand snapping forward to grab at the commander's shirt, but he was too late. Shepard's shoes met the edge of the grated floor, and jumped.

* * *

They were gone. Finally, she could be alone.

Raan had left this evening with great reluctance, only going when Tali told her she could come back tomorrow.

Hannah had wanted to stay, but she couldn't leave her warship docked in a civilian area, and had to get back to the Alliance to help any way she could. The woman squeezed Tali painfully in a tight embrace with a half-convicted whisper leaving her lips, telling her that they'd find John. Yet she wasn't sure she believed her mother-and-law.

Now, with Sarika tucked into bed, she was left only with her own thoughts. She stood in her empty bedroom, not even bothering to turn the lights on; the rays from Rannoch's moons provided enough light to see the general shape of the room.

Her eyes came to land on the bed, as they always did. It was too empty and cold, the soft material of the sheets paling in comparison to the warmth another body would provide.

Tali took a few steps farther into the room, taking a deep breath. The faintest scent of her husband touched her nose, a ghostly echo that would only hint at the man she loved before flitting away, forever out of her reach.

She suddenly doubled over as a sob forced its way out of her lungs, legs giving out from under her, and she landed heavily on the carpet of their room. Both hands came up to roughly cover her mouth, not wanting Sarika to hear anything.

Yet the barrier wasn't enough; her grief pushed through the physical obstacle and came out as a pitiful, choking gasp. Her body began to shake and she drew her knees up to her chest, rocking alone on the floor.

The pain in her chest leaked into her belly, making her feel sick. Loneliness was crippling her, and guilt made it difficult to even breathe.

_He's dead and I yelled at him. He's dead, and I didn't even tell him that I loved him._

The urge to have something of John close by rose up beneath her ribs until she couldn't bear being empty-handed on the floor. She got her hands under her, arms shaky, and pushed herself up with more strength than she thought she had left.

Sobs catching in her throat and eyelashes dewing from unshed tears, she clumsily made her way to the closet, fingers reaching out to grasp the handle.

Yanking the door open, she peered into the pitch-black space, looking for something of his. Tali extended a hand and felt around for something, _anything_ that would comfort her, until she found what she was looking for.

Pulling it roughly off the hanger, she brought it out into the dim light of the room.

This was it; Shepard's favourite sweater, made with N7 colours in mind and the small symbol stitched onto the breast.

She raised it up and pulled it over her head, the soft material sliding easily over her slim form. When she straightened it on herself, a smile almost curled on her lips when she saw how big it was on her; the neck was too wide the and shoulders of the sweater slipped right off of her own. The sleeves were a good five inches too long and the bottom of it rested mid-thigh on her frame.

She brought her hands up and pressed the clothing to her nose. She inhaled, nostrils filling with the scent of him. Of soap and polymer and male.

His presence, even just a pale shade, banked some of the crushing grief in her chest. She walked towards the bed, slipping her other clothing off and sliding under the covers wearing only his sweater.

She curled in on herself, pressing her nose once more into the material and getting a much stronger sense of her husband around her. She smiled then, closing her eyes to block out the soft light of the moons. Images of John filled her mind as she drifted off to sleep in the arms of a phantom.


	17. Chapter 17

A/N: Man, I've been so hyped about this part of the plot for a long time. It was super fun to write (and edit - thank you again to my beta PK), and I hope you enjoy this as much as I did.

* * *

**Chapter 17: Feet First**

For a moment, he felt weightless, almost as if he were gliding through the clouds.

Then he looked down.

Twisting in the air, he watched the arid plains far below slowly rise towards him, and his stomach lurched painfully. He wasn't exactly sure what he'd been thinking when he jumped, but freedom and a continued existence had been the two thoughts that stood out the most.

_Freedom isn't worth much when you're a splattered goo on the ground._

Terror jolted through him at the visual of his body becoming a paste in the sand below. Shepard's mind ticked furiously, wondering how the fuck he'd have even a snowball's chance of surviving.

His eyes drifted towards the battered metal block on his wrists and an idea came to mind. He'd heard of asari commandos dropping into hot zones with nothing more than biotics to stop them from dying when they hit the ground. He'd never done anything remotely like that, but he was not in a position to complain about inexperience.

If he got the cuffs off, his amp would work again. Extending both arms forwards as far as possible, he curled one leg up to his chest and kicked out at the metal between his wrists. The bones in his hands screamed from the impact, but the metal was giving. He kicked again and saw one of the openings for where his wrists went warped, and the hole got bigger. His boot connected with the metal once more, and the opening tore apart. He pulled one hand out, skin cutting against the exposed metal. He eyed the flesh of his wrist for a moment, seeing it bloodied and caked with dried blood and dirt, before looking back to the hand left inside the cuff. He couldn't slow his descent until it was off.

He jerked his head downwards to see how much time he had left, and his chest clenched painfully at the sight before him. He was falling quickly, and could now pick out details of the landscape; odd brush poking out of the sand, and what appeared to be a forest off in the distance.

He grabbed at the metal with his free hand and kicked at it frantically, his captured wrist on fire from the assault. The cuff was warping, but he couldn't get it loose enough to pull his hand free. If he didn't get it out now, he'd be dead.

Blowing out a breath, he held onto the metal tightly and pulled both hands away from each other. He began forcing his wrist out of the restraint, feeling the joints in it pop and the skin stretch. His free hand pulled the metal block upwards, assisting his captured arm.

The bones in his wrist finally snapped from the pressure and he howled in agony. Yet the broken appendage allowed him the opportunity to slip his wrist out.

With one last tug, he got his hand free. The needle inside of the cuff had broken off, the tip of it still stuck in his skin. He promptly pulled it out with his teeth, tossing the metal cuff away. Studying his hand, he saw that the joints had become disconnected and his arm looked grotesquely elongated, but he gritted his teeth and tried to endure the pain. He'd fix it up after he landed safely.

Turning his body in the air to face the ground, Shepard felt his amp flare. There was a sick residual jolt of fire in the back of his head from the biotic dampener, but his abilities came online. His palms glowed and he wrapped himself in a blue casing, using it to create drag against the air and slow his fall. He spread his body out and pulsed his amp, feeling himself begin to slow down significantly.

He had about two minutes left before hitting the ground, and he pulled against the air, feeling it warp and pop around him as he made himself as light as possible.

Sixty seconds. He curled inwards, tucking his head down and holding his arms and legs close to his body. This would be one hell of a landing.

Sand puffed out around him as he hit the ground, body rolling and tumbling from the ungraceful descent. He came to a stop twenty feet from where he landed, breathing hard and face in the dirt.

The impact had jarred his broken wrist considerably, and he feel the bone poking against his skin. He gagged at the pain, coughing and sputtering into the sand.

He heard something land heavily behind him, the unforgiving granules covering the landscape letting out a dull thud from the fall. Shepard lifted his head up from the hot sand and looked over his shoulder.

Kargesh rose off of the ground, azure rippling around him. Four black eyes shone from the strong rays of the sun, hints of blue reflecting in the dark orbs.

The batarian stalked towards him, a murderous expression on his face. Shepard tried to push himself up, but he found that his good arm wouldn't respond. Every bit of strength he'd had left had been drained from saving himself from the fall, and the pain in his broken wrist was making his vision blur around the edges.

A pulse of blue shot out of the batarian's hand and hit him straight in the ribs, sending him tumbling painfully across the sand. Kargesh closed the distance between them and grabbed at his shirt, hauling him to his feet. Shepard staggered, trying to stay awake. He was jerked close to the batarian's face, eyes boring into his own. The man was going to kill him.

Kargesh shoved him a few feet away and he fell to the ground, coughing. The man pulled out a combat knife—Shepard's own N7 blade, he saw with a jolt—and waved a hand angrily.

"Get up, human!" he barked, rage leaking into his voice.

He pressed his forehead into the sand, coughing again. Standing up was the last thing he wanted to do. His head pounded, he was starving, his entire body ached, and the bones in his wrist were on fire. He was surprised that he was even still awake.

"Get up!" Kargesh roared, walking over to him and kicking him viciously in the stomach. _"Get up!" _

A boot connected with his ribs, his thigh, his shoulder, over and over again, the batarian going into a rage and screaming that he had to stand up.

Shepard curled in on himself, trying to summon the strength to manifest any kind of biotic ability. He'd quite literally be beaten to death if he didn't react soon.

He felt a faint rumble beneath his prone body, something that tugged on memories best left forgotten. The earth stilled for a moment, then the quake came back, stronger this time.

He shot a hand out and grabbed at Kargesh's leg, jerking his arm downwards and making the man lose his balance. He stumbled over Shepard and managed to stay on his feet, but the ground shook and the batarian feel to his knees.

Shepard heaved himself up, adrenaline coursing through him. "No, no, no, no," he whispered as he got to his feet, looking around frantically. "No, God no."

He heard it, then. The call they made. The shrill cry of a giant predator, slithering beneath their feet. It echoed underground, adding to the quakes.

"What the hell?" Kargesh muttered, looking around. Shepard looked over at him, seeing the man's expression turn to one of confusion. Their eyes locked for a moment, and he saw restrained fury glowing in the batarian's gaze.

The sun was blocked out and he suddenly looked up to see a shuttle flying overhead, the one they'd been transporting him in. The vehicle slowly flew closer towards them, the door opening—

The ground exploded and a massive worm shot upwards, launching itself straight towards the shuttle. It's great maw opened, screeching as it lunged the last few metres to its target.

The shuttle became wrapped up within the giant cilia surrounding its mouth, metal rending and tearing as it was crushed under the immense pressure of the worm's jaws.

Its body fell quickly towards the planet, shooting sand up into the sky and shaking the ground as it landed. Both human and batarian were knocked off their feet by the impact, but the thresher maw seemed to find its ungraceful fall nothing more than routine. It slithered back into the hole it had created, enormous form sliding against the sand as it dragged its prize back to its domain.

The landscape began to fade from Shepard's view, being replaced with a colony littered with prefabs, the only light to see by being the two moons floating overhead. The scent of searing flesh and boiling blood filled his nose, as well as the screams of the dying crowding his eardrums, blocking out everything else.

The thresher maw burst from the ground once more, its metallic snack all but gone. He saw bits of grey in its jaws, pieces of the shuttle's exterior the only thing having survived the attack.

It rose up, blocking out the sun. Its massive body seem to almost suspend in the air for a moment, watching him. Then the worm began to descend, maw opening to reveal sallow insides, big enough to eat a vehicle.

Shepard watched it fall towards him with almost detached interest, the sight of the worm's open jaws above him not particularly alarming. Then he felt as if he'd been hit by a car, an unseen force launching him far away from the thresher maw's mouth. He landed heavily on his back and watched it hit the ground, jaws filling with sand, and the screech it made was deafeningly loud.

"... Come on!" Someone tugged on his shirt, pulling him to his feet. He looked up to see Kargesh glaring at him, hand tugging furiously on the commander's arm. The batarian yelled at him in a harsh language that didn't register with his translator, but the meaning behind the words was enough to turn his brain back on.

He dug his heels in and bolted forwards, hearing the worm drag its long form back into the ground. The sand quaked a moment later, making it a struggle to simply keep upright.

They were running towards the jungle that was only a klick away. It seemed to stretch in both directions forever, but he wasn't about to complain about the suddenness of the two biomes meeting up. He'd take whatever haven was available.

A loud screech echoed across the dunes, the thresher maw once more exploding out of the ground. The sand beneath them rumbled dangerously, and Shepard stumbled, hands instinctively shooting outwards for balance. His broken wrist crunched against the ground and he fell, howling.

The thresher's face hit the ground metres from where he landed, sand flying up and blinding him. One of the cilia around its jaws shot outwards, wrapping around his leg. Acid began to leak from its mouth, searing the ground and bubbling around the worm's maw, spitting like cooking oil. A few drops landed on his shoulder and he jerked his head away to shield himself from the threat, a few more drops sticking to the side of his jaw.

Kargesh jumped towards him, burying the knife in the tentacle constricting around his leg and effectively severing it from the worm's body. The thresher maw screeched and pulled away from them, the sound popping Shepard's eardrums painfully. He saw its circular mouth close as it slid away, preparing to strike once more.

Kargesh grabbed the front of his shirt and dragged him upwards, making him stumble to catch his balance. The man spun him around and continued their sprint towards the trees. Shepard followed closely behind, primal instincts allowing him to forget about how exhausted his body was. Adrenaline and terror compelled him to run, his feet digging large divots into the sand.

He heard the thresher maw bury itself under the ground again, beginning to slither towards them far below the surface. They were almost at the jungle; Shepard could see rubbery leaves looming far overhead, and hoped that the flora's roots were strong enough to stop a thresher maw.

A few more feet and they were in the forest, jumping over exposed roots and weeds. A screech sounded once more and he looked over his shoulder to see the worm launching itself straight through the trees.

Its face pushed against the mammoth branches of the massive flora standing around them, but it never got very far. The worm's body suddenly ignited and the whole thing shuddered and shook as if it had been struck by lightning.

Both Kargesh and Shepard stopped to watch what was happening. The forest was lit up with blue and white electricity, encasing the worm's massive body and setting its skin aflame. The screeches and howls carried far into the forest, the sound of a dying apex predator haunting in the peaceful biome.

After a long moment, the worm went completely still, its lax form crashing through the trees and collapsing onto the root-covered ground. The two bystanders were once again knocked off their feet by the impact, and the sun shone brightly overhead. There was a long, wide strip of clear sky where the worm had fallen, crashing through branches and leaves and exposing the ground to the harsh sun, its body a knife cutting through the jungle's skin.

Shepard felt his own body go lax against the ground, memories flickering in his vision and making it difficult to see properly. He blinked, trying to stay awake, but exhaustion had taken its toll and he felt himself begin to slowly descend into oblivion, the sound of Kargesh's laboured breathing and startled fauna the last thing to meet his ears.

* * *

_Running. He was always running, but he never seemed to get anywhere, no matter how hard he drove himself forward._

_The cement cracked and broke beneath him, the movements of a great predator destroying man's feeble attempt to control nature. It was a struggle to keep himself standing, let alone run._

_He could see prefabs ahead of him, and dread filled his chest, weighing him down. He always ran into the small collection of buildings, and he always regretted it. _

_Shepard tried to force his legs to stop, to run in a different direction, but he'd lost control of his limbs long ago—even when this had been a reality and not a memory, he still had had no control. _

_His mind screamed at his body to stop—running towards the prefabs was bad. He could never remember why, but it always ended in pain._

_His feet cleared the ground of the first few buildings, and panic overtook him. He could feel the thresher maw getting closer, but being eaten seemed almost a secondary concern to him now. _

_The ground underfoot rumbled and cracked, the chinks in the cement moving like lightning across the even ground. He heard it then, and remembered._

_Looking up, he saw support cables snapping and flailing wildly in the air, having been released from their tethers by the quakes. A few struck against the metal of the prefabs, drawing large gashes across the painted surface and creating sparks that lit up the night._

_White-hot agony suddenly raked up his back, sending him flying through the air and landing heavily on the ground._

Shepard felt his back spasm from his dreams and he grit his teeth, trying to keep still. Panic and horror still lingered in his mind, and he reached across the bed for his wife, wanting—

He howled as he felt his broken wrist come into contact with dirt and bolted upright. He wasn't at home. He rolled from his position onto his knees when he felt his stomach heave. The agony in his arm was making him dizzy.

All that he could get out was bile, burning up his throat and leaving a sour, hot taste in his mouth. He wiped at his lips, grimacing, and sat back down clumsily where he'd been laying. Blinking, he realised that he was in a forest. Turning his gaze to the right—

"Fuck," he swore, terror clenching in his chest for a brief second when he saw the dead thresher maw laying not ten feet away from him. The massive corpse was still smoking faintly, and the scent of cooked meat filled his nose. His stomach rumbled and he almost vomited again, disgusted at the thought of eating one.

_They've eaten enough of your men,_ came an immediate, dark thought, and he suppressed the strong urge to laugh hysterically. A snort escaped his will, however, and he heard an answering snort a few feet away.

"I didn't know humans found vomiting particularly funny," quipped the batarian sitting on a log to his left, who appeared to be eating a steak with his N7 knife in hand. The sight before him was so bizarre that Shepard blinked again and rubbed at his face, wondering if he'd gone mad.

His fingers brushed his jaw and he yelped, jerking his hand away. "Fuck," he muttered again, remembering that he'd been hit with acid. _Get another gunshot wound and you'll have every injury in the book._

"Where..." he began, then watched Kargesh take another bite out of his meal. "What the hell are you eating?" he asked instead, leaning back against a nearby tree. He was too confused to notice that he was talking to a man that had been kicking the shit out of him not too long ago.

The batarian said nothing, simply gesturing with Shepard's knife to the dead thresher maw laying on the ground. His lips curled in disgust, but curiosity got the better of him and he decided to take a more diplomatic approach to the conversation. "How did that thing die?"

"It was electrocuted," Kargesh answered off-handedly, as if Shepard had voiced a ridiculous question.

He sighed, dropping the topic and closing his eyes. He felt like microwaved shit—broken wrist, bruised ribs, burnt face and shoulder, pounding headache, and a deep-seated hunger that made him want to lunge at the batarian and snatch up his meal.

He focused on hunger for now, it being the easiest to deal with. He pushed himself up with his good hand and braced his back against the squishy bark behind him, groaning at the loud protest of his bones. Half-stumbling over to the giant worm, his nose wrinkled at the smell. Cooked flesh intermingled with the acid that was leaking from its slackened jaws, which bubbled and popped when it came into contact with the soil. A spark grabbed his attention and he looked to the right, seeing acid foaming around a large weed. Wherever the green goo touched the plant, tiny sparks discharged out from the burnt stems, fizzling out a moment later.

"The hell..." he muttered, kneeling down to look more closely, careful not to touch the acid. The plant looked entirely normal; the leaves were wide and flat, and dark green in colour. He'd mistake it for an Earth plant if not for the small white sparks discharging from the open stem.

"I wouldn't touch that," Kargesh said quietly behind him, and Shepard looked over his shoulder to see the batarian watching him with amusement.

"There's an electric current in the plants?" he asked confusedly, and the other man nodded.

"Bio-electric flora. As soon as you expose the inside of a plant, it's like a live wire."

Shepard looked at the thresher maw again. The thing had crashed through what appeared to be thousand year-old trees—if the current in those things were strong enough to kill something this big... He was suddenly worried about sitting next to the immense trunks that rose up around them.

He stood up once more, going to inspect the thresher maw. There were already a multitude of creatures crawling over the massive corpse, picking away at the charred meat and inhaling small morsels of its skin. He noticed a steak-sized chunk had been cut out of its head.

"What about the animals? They burst into flames when you touch them or something?" he asked sarcastically, though it was more rhetoric than a serious question.

Kargesh seemed to pick up on his tone and ignored him, finishing off his meal. Anger filled him whenever he saw the batarian using his knife, but he wasn't in a condition to fight him for it. He walked away from the worm—although he was starving, he didn't have the tools to cut into the corpse. Nor did he find the prospect of gnawing on a thresher maw overly pleasant. _Guess eating's not an option._

Half-falling back down against the tree he'd been leaning on, he eyed Kargesh warily. "You done with my knife?"

"No." the man replied, standing up and holstering the weapon at his belt. "It isn't standard practice to equip prisoners with a weapon."

Shepard laughed bitterly, suppressing a cough. "I don't think we're in a position to be throwing power around."

"And you're hardly in a position to challenge my word, human." Kargesh eyed Shepard's beaten, ragged frame. "You piss your pants at the sight of a worm, and I'm supposed to let you do whatever the hell you want?" It was his turn to laugh, though it held a touch of real, albeit psychotic, humour in it.

Shepard's lips curled back in a snarl, and he had the overwhelming urge to punch the batarian in the face. His anger grew when he realised that he wouldn't be able to throw a punch to save his life at the moment.

"The Great Comander Shepard," Kargesh continued, smile filled with vitriol. "terrified of a worm. If the Reapers had looked like thresher maws, we'd all be doomed."

"If I'm so useless, then why the fuck did you save me?" he growled. There were a lot things he didn't want to discuss with this man, but having nightmares about Akuze years after the fact was near the top.

"It was hardly for want of your skills, I assure you." Kargesh said dryly. "No, I'm bringing you to Kar'shan. And I need you alive when that happens."

Shepard snorted, resting his head against the bark behind him. "If you hadn't noticed, we no longer have a ride."

The man said nothing, instead heading off in a random direction. Shepard glared at him. "Where the hell are you going?"

"Taking a piss," the batarian muttered, stepping out of view a moment later.

Shepard sighed, thinking that this would be a good time to empty his own reserves, but he didn't want to get up. A cough suddenly escaped from his lungs and he doubled over, barking out moist air. He held his broken forearm away from himself as his body shook from the coughing, wondering if he was dying. It certainly felt like it.

A few more unpleasant minutes, and he finally sat back, spent from a simple coughing episode. Clearing his throat, he looked around the forest, trying to take his mind off of how much pain he was in.

The jungle was beautiful; the plants and trees displayed a plethora of vibrant colours, and large flowers seem to poke up from the ground all around him. He could hear the call of animals in the brush, skittering across the smooth soil and screeching to one another. Besides the charred thresher maw lying next to him, it seemed to be an Eden.

The batarian stepped back into view, looking over at the commander with distaste. "Get up, we're not staying here."

"Now you ask politely," Shepard muttered, the pain in his ribs painfully apparent. Yet he didn't follow Kargesh's blunt orders; he knew walking was not something he'd be able to do, and he wasn't going to stumble over himself in front of this man.

_Because going off on your own would be a lot better, _his mind quipped, but he ignored it. He was between a rock and a hard place. With illness slowly creeping in, he wasn't sure if he would even get to choose which devil to follow, his pride or his captor. Either one would get him killed.

Kargesh tapped his foot. "I said up," he barked.

"I heard you." Shepard sniped back, glaring at the man. "I think I'll rest for a minute first."

The batarian huffed angrily, digging around in his pockets. He came up with a few small packets of medi-gel and tossed them over to the commander. "Bandage your wounds and get up. We're going in five minutes."

Kargesh eyed him for a moment and then sat down on a log, pulling out a cloth from his breast pocket and began cleaning the knife while he waited.

Shepard reached over and grabbed at the medi-gel, sitting up straight and taking stock of his wounds. There were only three small packets of gel, so he'd have to choose carefully.

Acid on face and shoulder, bruised ribs, split lip, bloodied wrists, broken wrist, bruised ankle, and semi-healed gunshot wound in the shoulder.

He laughed bitterly. All of that combined with exhaustion, illness and hunger, it was a wonder that he was even still breathing.

He turned his attention first to his wrist, feeling nauseated just by looking at it. The bone was pushing against his skin, a movement away from piercing through. The only way he'd be able to tend to it would be to set it first, and the mere thought of doing so forced him suppress a gag. He'd set countless bones before on the field, his own included. But with medical equipment and anesthetic. He didn't even have a tourniquet if he set it improperly and exposed a vein.

Very slowly, he twitched a finger on his broken forearm. He hissed and gritted his teeth, regretting the movement; he would not be able to use that arm at all without vomiting or passing out.

"If you want me to move, you're going to have to help me," Shepard said quietly. He hated asking this man for aid of any kind, but he wasn't going to be able to set the bone by himself.

Kargesh looked up from wiping at the blade in his palm. "Want me to hold your hand?" he asked condescendingly, as if he were speaking to a child.

"Yes, actually," the commander replied, ignoring the batarian's jibe. "I need you to hold my arm down while I set it." If he was going to work with Kargesh, he'd dispose of any biting comments for the moment. Being a jackass wasn't going to get him very far, as much as he'd like to return the batarian's verbal jabs.

Kargesh looked surprised at Shepard's professional tone, but complied. Getting up from his seat and walking over to the commander sitting on the ground, he eyed the Shepard's broken limb. "What is it?" he asked flatly.

"Place your hands here and here," he indicated to his forearm with his good hand. "And hold tight; if my arm moves at all, the bone won't set right."

The batarian shrugged, kneeling down and doing as the commander said. Shepard resisted the urge to cringe at the man's hands on his forearm, but now was hardly the time to be picky about medical aid.

He took a deep, shuddering breath, good hand touching the wrist as lightly as he could. He coughed over his shoulder, suppressing another urge to gag, and began to lightly feel the side of his forearm, trying to find exactly where the break was. He bit down on his tongue hard enough to taste blood, his exploration of the broken bone making it difficult to focus.

He found the break finally, and closed his eyes. "Okay," he muttered, more to himself than Kargesh. "Here we go."

Placing his palm against the side of his forearm, he quickly applied pressure and pushed hard. He felt the bone snap back into place with a sick crunch and he doubled over, pressing his forehead into the dirt. Loud gasps escaped him as he tried to force himself to stay awake, body shaking.

True to his word, the batarian didn't let go of his arm until Shepard waved him off. Kargesh let go as if touching the commander burned him, stepping away. No sarcastic remarks, however; when Shepard looked up from his position on the ground, he swore he saw a glint of respect in the man's eyes before his features smoothed over.

"Two minutes," Kargesh muttered, heading back to his seat.


	18. Chapter 18

A/N: I've been terrible with updates. It's been what, two or three weeks? This chapter's huge though, so that might make up for my shitty posting schedule (I hope).

(And forgot to mention this, but holy shit, over one hundred reviews already - you guys are awesome. All this feedback is making me feel warm and fuzzy inside. Can't thank you enough for all of your encouragement and help.)

* * *

**Chapter 18: A Twisted Eden**

_Should've eaten while you still had the chance, idiot._

His stomach growled loudly and he sighed, seeing Kargesh look briefly over his shoulder before continuing forwards. "You want to tell me where we're going?" the commander said testily. He didn't like walking around blind.

"A comm facility."

"You can't pull out your omni-tool and call your friends?"

Kargesh stopped and turned on his heel, glaring at him. "We'd be on a ship by now if I could do that, human. But the bio-electricity in the plants disrupts communications and I can't get a signal until we clear this jungle."

The commander snorted. "There's a desert back there, in case you've forgotten. No trees there. Why not just head back?" He didn't know how much more walking he could take—Shepard was now perpetually out of breath from the fluid in his lungs, and his body had been pushed so far past the point of exhaustion that he was now on auto-pilot. But he didn't have another hour in him.

Kargesh looked at him as if he were a particularly dense child struggling with their times tables. "But there's thresher maws, and I know how scared you are of them." He grinned, sharp teeth flashing. "We'd have to walk far enough away from the jungle to get out of the electric field, and we'd be swarmed by worms before that happened."

Shepard's eyes flared. "Why the hell are we even on this planet, then? If it's so goddamn dangerous?"

"Because you jumped out of a shuttle. Now get moving, dog." Kargesh turned and resumed their trek through the forest, not looking back to see if Shepard followed.

He didn't. The commander leaned against a tree, barking out a wet cough and gasping in air. Maybe the title of dog wasn't so far from the truth, after all. He rubbed at his temple, sliding heavily down the spongy bark and coming to sit on the jungle floor. He'd die of exhaustion or suffocation if he kept moving.

Kargesh walked a few metres ahead of him before turning when he didn't hear anyone behind him. "I said get moving, human. We don't have much daylight left."

"The only way I'm moving is if you carry me," Shepard replied irritably, closing his eyes. He could already feel sleep setting in and he'd been on the ground for a total of five seconds.

The batarian scoffed. "It's a wonder the Alliance ever survived the War if this is how little endurance their soldiers have." He didn't move from his position either; the man clearly didn't intend to stop now.

"Training isn't worth a damn when you've got the plague." Shepard muttered. "I'm not moving, dumbass, so get cozy. We'll be here awhile."

Kargesh stayed silent for a moment, fuming. There was no way he'd be able to persuade Shepard to keep moving, and the realisation that an ill man had power over him was a bitter pill to swallow. The urge to simply kill the idiot and be done with all of this was dangerously tempting, but he had his duties, and they wouldn't go away until he did what his people demanded of him.

Stepping back in his footprints until he reached where the commander was, Kargesh eyed the immediate area surrounding them. Night was fast approaching, and he wasn't eager to leave them unprotected from what was coming.

He needed to secure what was now going to be their campsite, but he was at a loss how to do so. He couldn't make stakes out of branches; cutting off the limbs of a tree would result in electrocution. No campfire, either.

Infuriated at their helpless position, he spun and slammed his boot against Shepard's leg, making the man flinch and his eyes tear open. His palms glowed blue and his lips were curled back in a mammalian snarl.

"What the fuck?" he growled.

"We're dead! As soon as the sun sets, we're fucked!" He kicked at the commander again. "You _idiot!_ We'll be eaten like animals because of you!"

Shepard raised his good arm threateningly, purple crackling around him to ward off any more blows, though it was mostly a paper threat. "How the hell is this my fault? You're the one who was landing on this planet in the first place!"

"You weren't supposed to jump out the shuttle and destroy our only escape route! Now we're stuck here because you're too weak to move!"

Shepard rolled his eyes. "You people never heard of Plan Bs before? You call me an idiot, but you didn't even plan for the insane idea that a prisoner might actually want to escape."

Kargesh raised his arm in return, his own biotics flaring. "This is Plan B, human. The comm facility is a few hours from here, but you're too busy whining to actually get up and move."

"Guess you should treat your prisoners better, then."

The batarian spun and launched a ball of energy at the nearest tree. The bark exploded and he saw the exposed roots inside glow faintly, humming from the electricity running through it.

Kargesh turned back to Shepard, air pulsing around him. "I have little patience for you, human. I'm quite tempted to kill you right here, if only for the peace and quiet."

The commander didn't bother looking at him; his eyes had shut once more and he sagged against the tree, trying to get comfortable. "I'll make sure to be more careful about what I say around you, then." Shepard said sarcastically. If the man was fazed by Kargesh's destruction of a tree, he didn't show it. The batarian's jaw clenched and his hands balled into tight fists. The man was infuriating to the point of driving Kargesh mad. They needed to get off this planet soon or he'd stick the dog with a knife in his sleep.

Blowing out a breath, he unsheathed the blade at his belt. He saw one of the commander's eyes open and Kargesh grinned wickedly. Seemed that the man _did_ have some fear in him. "I'm going to find something to eat. I'd rather my last meal be better than charred worm."

Shepard let out a cough, wincing at the pain in his throat. "Good—" Another cough. "Good for you. I think I'll stay here."

The batarian turned, going to head through the trees. "I wouldn't sleep too deeply," he began, laughing. "Never know what'll want to eat you."

Another wet cough was the only response from Shepard, and with that, Kargesh headed out.

* * *

Sleep would not come to him.

Every time he closed his eyes, nightmares would plague him. Ones of Akuze and Tali and Hackett. Especially Hackett.

His eyelids were heavy with exhaustion and he lacked the strength to move his muscles—he felt like a puppet whose strings had been cut, limbs static on the ground without the help of another. But still the comforting embrace of oblivion eluded him. His mind refused to shut off.

He had been abandoned by the very government who had used him as their symbol to the galaxy. He had been betrayed by a friend whom he'd known longer than he could remember. He had given everything to the Alliance—spilt the blood of his men, his friends and family. He'd sacrificed his own peace of mind, gone countless nights without sleep, wondering if he was slowly going insane. He had forgotten his morals, committed terrible deeds for his government at the cost of his own soul. He'd tossed his reputation out the window and joined Cerberus to help human colonies and prepare the galaxy for a brutal war as best he could. He had destroyed the Alpha Relay, killed hundreds of thousands of innocent people to save millions. And it all meant nothing. He'd given up his very right to be called a good man for the Alliance, and it suddenly didn't matter.

Because of a mistake. One simple, stupid mistake.

A huge mistake. One that had set into motion the dogs of war and pitted two races against one another. If he cast aside what personal feelings he could, he could grudgingly see the logic behind it—killing one man to save millions. That's what militaries were for in the first place. He'd sworn an oath the day he enlisted to carry out that sacrifice if need be, and do so with grace.

But the heaviness in his heart lingered, no matter how *practical* this perversion of trust had been. Betrayal was weighing him down, making him wonder why he was following Kargesh to an execution. A simple, quiet blow to the head while the batarian was gone, and this all ended for Shepard.

He was not a man of pessimism, but looking at his situation, he was fucked. He was ill and crippled and exhausted, and was being lead like a mule to a chopping block. And even if he managed to actually kill Kargesh and escape this planet on his own, where would he go? The Alliance would not welcome him back. The Council was likely behind his trade off in the first place. And going back to Rannoch would invite enemies to his family's doorstep.

That left him with the Normandy, but that would not lead to a peaceful solution either. He'd contact Garrus, but then what? Force the Turian Hierarchy into backing him up and create ill-feelings with the Alliance?

Or speak with Liara, and have her twist the arms of batarian politicians in a dark room with threats of leaking intel? Force them into false truce with the Alliance that would only last as long as their fear? Or even go to Wrex and ask for aid, and spend his days as a political refugee on Tuchanka, far away from his wife and child?

All of those options would not fix the conflict that was waiting in the stars. It might push it away, hide it in a dark corner, but it would return. And if he wished to ever come out of hiding, he'd be tasked with fighting the war again, only this time he'd be short on allies and have an angry race on his doorstep.

But if he died, the batarians would be appeased and peace would return, even if it was uneasy. Shepard was no longer needed by the people he'd saved—heroes faired badly in times of tranquility.

It was not an easy pill to swallow, though he felt a bitter humour creep into his chest when he wondered why he hadn't realised it sooner—heroes were meant to only survive in the world they thrived in. If war was no longer a threat, they were no longer needed.

Stripping all feelings away and truly looking at the problem before him, he could find no happy outcome. Turning to any government for aid would only offer him a life of sheltered exile, and even then nothing would be fixed. Informing the media of the Alliance betraying their Great Hero would send humanity into a civil war. And turning to his friends only pointed to a solitary life—he would live either in the bowels of the Normandy, hiding from sight and waiting for the batarians to forget, or live in a hole on Tuchanka, alone and afraid of being found. He wouldn't ever be able to see Tali or Sarika again if he lived that life. He'd wither away in a dank corner, never again being able to touch his wife or watch his daughter grow up. And even if, years later, he could eventually come out of hiding, it would instantly re-spark the unrest, and he'd be in the same position as before.

But if he was executed, the batarians would back down and make nice. The Alliance would display his body on a pedestal and proclaim him a noble hero to its ignorant citizens. And he would wait for his family on the Other Side, away from war and pain and loneliness.

But those very thoughts of family stopped him from reaching for the nearest rock and smashing his own skull in. If he died, he'd leave Tali alone on Rannoch, having to bear the burden of raising a child on her own. He curled inwards at the thought of her alone in their large bed, waiting for him to come home. She was a strong, intelligent woman, more than capable of carving out a life for Sarika and herself, but he couldn't leave her. Surviving and living were two different things, and he knew which one she'd end up doing if he arrived home in a coffin.

And his daughter. She'd grow up in a home with a cloud of sorrow hanging over her head. He wouldn't be able to see her face again, kiss her goodnight, or look for monsters under her bed. He wouldn't be able to yell at her for eating too much candy or bringing mud pies into the house.

He wouldn't watch her grow up. Wouldn't be able to kill the first boy that rejected her or watch her mature into a woman. Wouldn't be at her wedding or see her buy her first home. Wouldn't be a grandfather to her own children.

The helplessness was choking him. Family and duty were two things he couldn't balance successfully; one would burn in the presence of the other. And sooner or later, he'd be forced to watch one of them crumble to ashes in the dust.

A large, dark form landed heavily in front of him, disrupting further musings. He jumped and pressed himself into the tree for a horrified moment before realising that he was looking at a dead animal, and let go of the breath he'd been holding.

A laugh sounded behind him and he turned his head to see Kargesh stepping into view next to him, a grin on his face. The bastard must have thrown it right in front of him on purpose. "First worms and now dinner? What aren't you afraid of?"

"You're back early," Shepard muttered, ignoring the comment. Kargesh looked at him oddly before turning his face upwards, eyeing the small bits of sky that poked through the dense blanket of leaves overhead.

"It's been two hours. Wanted to eat while there was still light out."

Shepard grunted, surprised that he'd been lost in thought for so long. Then, when his mind registered what the batarian had said, his brows scrunched together in confusion. "What's so bad about the night, anyway? You scared of the dark or something?"

Kargesh knelt down next to the large creature he'd caught, sticking the N7 knife into its throat and dragging the blade downwards, starting the long process of gutting and preparing the meal. "'Only fools fear the dark, and not a fool I; a wise man's terror is found in the demons that walk beneath the shadows of the sun,'" he intoned, and Shepard got the feeling that the batarian was quoting something.

He was right; Kargesh looked up at him, smirking. "I suppose such poetry is wasted on you. I don't expect you to be familiar with batarian literature."

"I don't think I've ever heard an educated batarian speak before. Your mercenaries seem to be a little more blunt than that." Shepard replied amusedly.

The other man snorted, cutting through the belly of the animal he sat next to. "Men and women of value rarely leave Hegemony space—they're usually caged in politics. Only the criminals and the simple-minded leave for the idiocy of Council-controlled worlds."

"So you are a diplomat," Shepard said. "I was wondering why you seemed so important to the batarian government."

Kargesh shook his head, smiling faintly. "In a sense. Sleeping with a leader of the Hegemony has its uses. Stupid bitch'll believe anything I tell her."

Shepard frowned in surprise. Of all the things he'd been expecting to hear, that was not one of them. "That's how you got into power? Having sex with a politician? You'd think the stench would drive you away." he added dryly.

The batarian laughed at that, beginning to pull out the organs of the animal he was gutting. He opened his mouth to answer when his face suddenly smoothed over and he glared at the commander. The humour that had pooled in his eyes drained away as quickly as it had appeared, leaving behind a cold sadism that baffled Shepard with his sudden change in demeanour. "If you want to eat, go cut off a few branches; we have to cook this thing." With that, he turned back to the task at hand, forearms covered in a deep-blue fluid that Shepard assumed was blood.

The commander pushed himself off the ground with the help of the tree behind him. Although he hadn't slept, two hours of rest had done at least something to help his body—he didn't feel quite so exhausted as he had before. His bones still ached like hell, however.

He stepped over to where Kargesh was gutting the animal, eyeing the dead creature curiously. It looked to be a cross between a dog and a lizard, and was about the size of a deer, the large mammalian head at odds with the smooth dark hide of its six-limbed body. He poked it with the toe of his boot, frowning. "You think this'll fry from electricity? It looks rubbery."

The batarian glared up at him, hands stilling inside the animal's torso. "Are you physically incapable of following simple orders?"

Shepard rolled his eyes but said nothing, instead heading towards the nearest tree and looking up at its branches. "How am I supposed to cut thes—"

Something landed with a soft thud at his feet, and he looked down. The object lying next to him appeared to be bone, though it was a dark grey and seemed to be almost made out of hard plastic.

He bent down and picked it up with his good hand, turning it in his palms. It was what he figured to be a hip bone; the part that would connect with the spine of the animal fit easily into his palm, as though it were crafted to be a weapon. The slim portion was about five or six inches long before the bone flared out and formed a faintly serrated head. It looked like a crude axe.

"Use that to cut off a branch. Strip the bark away from the wired centre and we can use it to make a fire. The current in the trees won't be of any use to us; the animal's hide is too rubbery to allow electricity to pass through it." Kargesh said flatly, not bothering to look at Shepard. He was elbow deep in the creature's guts by now, clearing out the meat they wouldn't use.

Shepard did so without complaint. He sawed at the lowest branches, careful not to touch the inner part of the tree's limbs, seeing organic wires poking out from the branches and glowing faintly. It was a difficult task; with only one arm in working condition, he struggled to keep the tree limbs steady while sawing, his broken wrist tucked tightly into his side.

When he eventually got three large logs of wood about the length and width of his arm, he stopped, sitting down on the compact soil and beginning to strip the bark off of the first branch.

"You still haven't told me what happens at night," Shepard said quietly. He rolled his shoulders, carefully handling the tree limb in his hands and slowly sawing away at the bark. It was an awful realisation, but that small amount of exercise had left him winded and tired, and he was glad to be sitting down once more.

Kargesh ignored him, focusing on his own task. Shepard sighed. "I won't be able to stay alive if you don't tell me what we're facing on this planet."

"You're hardly surviving as it is; stand up for five minutes and you're wheezing like an old man. We're dead if we stay here. Telling you how you'll die will make it no less fatal."

The commander glared at him. "Listen, asshole, I want to live just as much as you d—"

Kargesh suddenly whirled and lunged at him, pressing the edge of the blade into his throat and shoving him over. His face was inches from Shepard's, four black eyes boring into his two. "Do not presume to tell me how I feel or think. You have no idea how much I'd like to die. I am only alive because I haven't given you to the Hegemony yet, and that is the _only_ reason you are not in the place of that dog over there." He jerked the knife over at the creature he'd been gutting. "Open your mouth one more time and I'll make you regret it."

* * *

Night was approaching.

They'd finished both of their tasks and had cooked the animal Kargesh had caught. The meat had been stringy and tasted faintly of burnt plastic, but Shepard had been too hungry to care. And without the luxury of being able to waste any source of nourishment, they'd even drank the beast's blood. Although a rather poor substitute for refreshing liquid, it was energy all the same.

The dark blue substance had been somewhat oily and tasted familiarly metallic. It was warm and runny, and had left a bitter aftertaste in his mouth. Yet this hadn't been the first time he'd done it; N7s had been dropped in virtually every environment possible during training, and were left with such scant amounts of resources that they'd had to find unorthodox ways of acquiring nourishment.

And now, meal complete and stomach full, Shepard noticed the dying rays of the sun. He was also noticing that the calls of animals were quieting, and he watched bugs scramble up the sides of the bark, hiding in the trees.

Kargesh had not uttered a single word since he'd backed away from Shepard after their "conversation". The man had not even met his gaze, only focusing on the meal in front of him.

The tension could have been cut with a knife. The finishing of their supper had darkened the mood further when both realised that communication was now mandatory.

"If you won't tell me what's going to happen, at least tell me where we can hide, or—"

"They're called the Ohk-nautah," Kargesh began quietly. "They're a semi-sapient race that live here. They are exclusively nocturnal and hunt in large packs."

Semi-sapient was what stuck out in Shepard's mind, but there wasn't time to focus on that. "What's so dangerous about them?"

"They can see anything in the dark; their vision is so accurate that they virtually need no light to hunt. There isn't anywhere to hide from them."

Shepard frowned, mind conjuring up half-formed ideas on what they could do. "What about light?" he asked, and Kargesh looked up at him. "If they've adapted to darkness so well, could we blind them?"

The batarian looked somewhat impressed, but the frown on his face didn't leave. "If we had a sustainable light source, then yes. But it takes a long time and a lot of wood to make a fire that would last long enough to be useful."

"The trees? What if we cut one open? They glow if you expose the roots."

"Only for a moment. Even with the trees that were large enough to kill that thresher maw, the light only lasted for a few minutes. They'll attack as soon as it goes dark again."

Shepard sighed, leaning back against a tree and wondering what the hell they'd do. No idea that came to mind seemed promising.

"As I said, our only option was to head to the comm facility. It will be full night by the time we get close and you can't walk more than ten feet without falling over." Kargesh said flatly, idly playing with the blade in his hands.

Shepard glared at him. "I wouldn't be so sick if you hadn't locked me in that cell. It's not my damn fault you're shitty at keeping people alive." As if to give evidence to his claim, a few hard, wet coughs escaped his lips, making him double over and groan. His ribs hurt like hell from the beating they'd taken, and coughing wasn't doing his bones any favours. He saw Kargesh smile faintly in his periphery, and his lips curled back. "What the fuck is your problem, anyway?"

The batarian scrunched his face in confusion. "Excuse me?"

Shepard straightened himself and leaned back heavily on the bark, trying to clear his throat. "With me. You seem hell bent on killing me."

"I suppose the Alpha Relay incident has slipped your mind." Kargesh muttered, not looking at him.

"I haven't forgotten. But that was ten years ago. Odd that you'd wait so long for revenge."

The batarian laughed bitterly. "The faces of the dead rarely rest easily."

"Thanks for the next lesson in batarian poetry." Shepard muttered. The bastard never gave him a straightforward answer.

Kargesh glared at him, standing up. "Not poetry. I don't need a scholar's words to tell you the truth."

A shrill cry cut off their conversation, and both of them tensed. Shepard grabbed at the bone Kargesh had given him, pushing himself up the tree and standing unsteadily on his feet.

"Is that them?" he said quietly.

The batarian shook his head. "Still light out. But it won't be for long." Kargesh looked up, surveying the trees hanging over them. "Can you at least climb a tree, human?"

"I thought you said we couldn't hide from them," Shepard said, coughing again.

"We can't. But we might be able to stay out of their reach until dawn." Kargesh eyed him. "Find a tall tree and climb."

Hooking the bone-axe onto his belt, Shepard did as he was told. Quickly searching the flora around them, he found a high-reaching tree and grabbed ahold of the bark with his good arm. The notches in the tree's flesh were not made to hold a grown man, and he was quite literally hanging on by his fingertips at some points. The fact that his wrist burned in agony every time he moved helped very little with his current situation.

He stabbed his boots into the spongy bark, trying to gain footholds as he ascended. The tree stood almost two stories high, and the only branches it had were at the very top. He dug his fingers into a small crevice of the wood, pulling himself upwards. The small notch gave when he put weight on it and he lost his grip. Shepard let out a cry, his free, broken arm grasping frantically at the air for something to hold onto. He flared his amp and pushed his body hard into the tree, hugging his arms around it as best he could. He heard the batarian cackle a few metres right of him and looked over to see Kargesh climbing a tree much like Shepard's, blue wreathed around him.

Shepard huffed, mimicking the other man and using his abilities to help him climb the last few metres, grateful that he could ease the pressure off of his damaged bones. Reaching the multi-limbed top, he held onto the large branches and hooked his feet into the crotch of the tree, trying to sit comfortably on it.

Looking down, he could see the forest floor and their rudimentary campsite below. A jump from here would break a man's legs, and even with all of the tech stuck in his body, he'd likely sprain the shit out of his feet from a straight drop down.

Eyeing his violent compatriot, he saw the batarian leaning against a large branch, arms crossed and sitting casually in the large, flat crotch of the tree. His legs dangled idly off of the massive organic structure, and he looked to be the picture of tranquility.

Shepard looked up through the leaves above him, eyeing the sky. They had about twenty minutes of sunlight left. His heart quickened at the realisation; whatever these things were, they frightened Kargesh. And that was terrifying.

He shifted, trying to get more comfortable. He needed whatever rest he could get before the... _Ohk-nautah_, the batarian called them, showed up. If they had to run or fight, regaining what strength he could was mandatory.

Not that he could get into fighting shape by sleeping in a tree for a few minutes. His entire body was beginning to shake from the constant movement, and he was having a difficult time breathing. He needed a good sixteen hours of sleep, a warm bed, and a hard dose of antibiotics. None of which were available to him on this planet.

Recognising the fact that he was slowly suffocating while hiding in a tree from enemies that could hunt in the black of night, and the only weapon he had was a rubbery bone, he realised that these might be his last few hours of life—if they were found, they'd have to run. And he wouldn't be able to do that for long. And even if, by divine intervention, they got away, it would only be for one night. The creatures would always come back. And he'd only get more and more sick.

He'd spent more than a few nights accepting death, and had always come out alive. This, though, this was different. Even surviving on this planet meant an execution on Kar'shan. Even escaping only meant a horrible, lonely life, stuck in a shack and slowly waiting for the batarians to back down from the Alliance.

He was never going to see Sarika or Tali again, no matter what move he made. He clenched his teeth, feeling the sting of tears. His heart beat heavily in his chest as he thought of his wife. They had survived the War, survived everything, only for him to die ten years later for a government that no longer wanted him.

Because of the Alliance and Council, he wouldn't get to see his wife again. Wouldn't see his daughter. He'd given the galaxy everything in the War, and now they were taking away his peace. The last thing that kept him sane.

The drop down suddenly seemed far more inviting.

"I'd hide if I were you," Kargesh called, interrupting Shepard's fatalistic musings. The commander curled his legs in and ducked down behind a large branch, quickly checking to make sure none of his limbs were sticking out.

It was twilight now. He could see a few stars twinkling overhead, and only wisps of light were left to them. Shepard looked over at the batarian to see him in a similar position, hiding himself behind branches and thick leaves. The only way they'd be noticed would be if they made noise. Or their scent was picked up.

He heard an agonised cry to his right, making his whole body tense. The sounds of struggle echoed in the trees, hooves or claws scrambling against soil and bark. The Ohk-nautah wasted no time hunting.

Shrill howls and screeches returned the call, as if answering their prey. Shepard could pick up alien clicks and squeals, and by the way Kargesh was tensing at the sounds, he could figure out what was making the noise.

When the cries from the unlucky animal stopped, dead silence met his ears. No birds, no land animals, not even insects made noise. The whole forest was hiding, waiting for Death to pass. It had already claimed one soul, and it was barely even night yet.

He heard movement. Faint rustles against dead leaves, as if something was slithering across the ground. And whatever it was, it was fast.

More rustling. It sounded almost like a herd, a large pack of these small creatures, all hunting and seeking for a meal. They made quite a bit of noise; they all squealed and clicked at one another, communicating in a primal language that couldn't be made by a human mouth.

They also had no worries about moving silently—he could hear claws scrape against stone and bark, as if they were challenging anyone to make them be quiet.

Shepard leaned forward ever so slightly, trying to see in the complete black of night—the sun had set quickly, as if it were afraid of being seen by these apex predators. He couldn't make out shapes, but he could see faint dots of blue light shifting and moving quickly across the ground below him. They pulsed faintly, brightening and dimming in a way that reminded him of hanar, but far less elegant and precise.

The blue dots were all in bunches; there were about twenty or so all hovering together, shifting and moving as one. He realised that the small lights were part of the Ohk-natauh's heads, the only visible part of their bodies.

At least until he saw their eyes. Large, yellow orbs seem to float in the complete black of night, their double pupils long dark slits, only visible when they looked at one of their fellow hunter's frilled, glowing heads.

The creatures all seemed drawn to something—Shepard assumed it was what was left of his and Kargesh's meal. He saw the phantom eyes and glowing frills crowd around in a circle, snarling and tearing into the leftover meat. He saw more light leave their bodies—every time they opened their mouths, faint blue light pulsed out from the alien maws. Even the several tongues that snaked from their jaws glowed; faint, illuminated lines ran up and down the dark blue muscles, refracting off the the thick saliva coating their mouths and razor teeth.

A hard, insistent tickle worked its way up his throat, distracting his study of the creatures and making the muscles in his neck contract with the urge to cough. Shepard clenched his teeth, pressing his forehead into the bark of the branch in front of him and swallowing hard, trying to suppress what would amount to a death sentence for him and Kargesh.

It wouldn't go away. He swallowed again, but his mouth was dry and raw from coughing and a lack of water. His eyes stung and his throat constricted almost painfully, begging him to cough.

He bit his thumb till he drew blood, frantically trying to distract himself from the tickle in the back of his throat, the sounds of the animals feeding below a sort of warning to the danger of making noise.

He finally couldn't breathe and the breath exploded out of him in a hard bark, echoing in the trees around him. He saw Kargesh's head snap over to where Shepard sat, four black eyes burning.

The Ohk-nautah, for the first time, went silent and still. In unison, dozens of pairs of yellow orbs drifted upwards almost lazily. They spotted him, and he saw the creatures' pupils dilate once, twice, easily sighting him up above.

One sounded a howl and the others answered with their own. They darted towards the tree, snarling and shrieking. Claws scraped against bark, scoring deep into the tree's flesh. They all began jumping, limbs searching for purchase on the ramrod tree. A few found footholds and immediately started to climb, limbs bending and stretching at odd angles as they seemed to almost glide up the tree.

"Run!" He heard the batarian yell before the man hopped up from his sitting position, jumping on nearby branches and beating a slow path through the tree limbs. Shepard followed suit, pulling his legs up and feeling his heart clench when one creature clacked its teeth at him, dangerously close to his boot.

It was the first time he got a good look at one; its skin was a rubbery midnight colour, stretching starkly over high cheekbones and making its skin look sunken in, like black leather pulled over a skull. Its yellow eyes were massive, taking up most of the upper half of its face—they glowed faintly, small blue veins spidering out from its long, thin pupils. The black slits were in pairs in each eye, a larger one in the centre and a smaller one curving inwards beside it, looking like a double crescent moon.

Long, stiff strands slicked off the back of its head, thin tendrils ending in small, pulsing lights—the blue dimly illuminated the animal's terrible features. Its mouth was large, the ends of its thin lips stretching up almost to its eyes. Strings of skin seemed to have been pulled down over parts of its long maw, stitched onto its bottom lip and giving the impression of a grinning skull, its glowing blue tongues slithering out of the spaces in between the flesh and searching for a meal. It was about the size of a dog, resting on four long legs, except that each limb had an extra joint, making it look almost like an insect.

"You fucking idiot!" He felt a pull on the back of his shirt and toppled over, back slamming hard into a thick tree branch. Kargesh had grabbed ahold of him with his biotics, standing about twenty feet from Shepard. "Move!"

He wasted no more time staring Death in the face. Scrambling away, he tripped to his feet and began frantically searching for branches to step on, the thick leaves scratching his face and threatening to poke an eye out at any moment.

He followed Kargesh's path through the trees, hearing the batarian crash through the foliage only a few feet in front of him. Behind him, he could hear the creatures reaching the top of the tree; the howls and snarls were seconds away, sharp claws scratching against the bark and pulling their small, thin bodies towards their prey.

He felt the primal parts of his mind take over, flooding his brain with a fear that had been encoded in the DNA of every single animal—the fear of being caught. He fell into the role of prey, fleeing with every ounce of energy his body could give him, forgetting exhaustion and illness and pain. Being eaten was a far worse fate than any ailment he suffered from now.

A small spark jumped to his left a split second before it came into contact with his skin, making him yelp and stumble. He'd broken a small branch in his ungraceful, slow run through the tangled trees, and the result had sent a jolt through his body. He stumbled, his boot scraping off bark and sliding away from the limb he stood on. His arms shot out, trying to grab something as he felt himself falling. The forest floor below was invisible to him; the jungle's foliage blocked out all light from stars and moons, sending the world into complete darkness. Except for the Ohk-nautah.

His hands grasped the branch he'd been standing on a moment ago, but he howled in agony as his broken wrist was rent from its socket once more when his weight dragged down on it. He tucked it into his side, feeling his good hand's fingers digging hard into the tree limb above and desperately trying to hold on.

He heard a snarl, and a moment later the staunch, horribly glowing face of one hunter came into view. It almost seemed to grin at him, long thin mouth curling upwards and wrinkling the tight skin of its face. The frills on its head stood on end and glowed brightly, and it opened its mouth, screeching and slithering its tongues out of its maw. They snaked down and licked at his fingers, and he cringed; the illuminated lines running along the thick muscle were burning hot, and he felt his fingers twitch.

The creature retracted its tongues a moment later and opened its mouth wide, so wide that some string of flesh stitched to its jaw snapped and hung limp on its upper lip. It hissed at him, glowing maw giving off a terrible stench, as if the inside of its mouth was rotting. The hunter clacked its teeth and dove towards him, and he decided that he'd rather break his bones falling than become a meal.

He let go of the branch and fell, seeing the creature pull back from its lunge too late and tumble over the branch with him. He flared his amp and put up a barrier around himself with what little focus he had left to afford, trying to cushion his landing. He saw the animal above him open its thin arms and legs wide, claws extending and looking like it was about to latch onto him.

Gravity had pulled him down quickly; he slammed into the ground a second later, feeling his bruised ribs instantly gain another layer of broken blood vessels, but his barrier had prevented him from acquiring any more broken limbs.

He had little time to celebrate his luck, however; the creature that had followed him hit the dirt not a foot away from him, screeching in agony. It twisted and and snarled in the soil, letting out the occasional whimper as it tried to untangle its long limbs from its broken body.

He thrust out his good hand, shooting a pulse of blue towards it. The thing looked up and let out a piercing howl when the energy hit it, making it roll away from him. Shepard scrambled up to his feet, the darkness disorienting; even with cybernetics, he could barely see his hand in front of him.

"Kargesh!" he shouted, searching frantically for the man. Although the batarian was hardly what he'd call good company, the commander would rather have him by his side, if only for his knowledge of the threat they faced.

As if answering his thoughts on his own demise, the creature lurched up from the ground, moaning and snuffling. It began to stalk towards him on all four double-jointed limbs, gait clumsy and awkward from its injuries. Broken bones didn't seem to stop the thing from wanting to kill him, however.

He shot another pulse at it, breaking into a run and sprinting past it. He could hear the battle going on in the trees above him; howls and shouts filled the air, and he could see sparks light up the trees, both with electricity and the biotics Kargesh was launching at his aggressors.

Shepard could hear his own chasing behind him, claws scraping heavily against the ground, churning up rocks and leaves and dirt. He sprinted blindly through the forest, following the noise and concentrating on not running into a tree.

The adrenaline in his body was enough to keep him moving, but he knew he had to find somewhere safe, and fast; as soon as the fear of being eaten started to taper off, he'd fall straight into unconsciousness.

He saw something descend from the trees about ten feet in front of him, a lithe form falling gracefully to the forest floor, blue sparking faintly around the figure. Kargesh.

The batarian shouted something to him that he didn't catch, but Shepard wasn't in a very talkative mood and decided that he'd ask for clarification later. He caught up to his captor quickly and they took off through the trees, this time having something far more stable to run on. The creatures up above started sliding down the massive plants, heads aglow with excitement at the prospect of a big meal.

But when the pack jumped down from the trees, they didn't follow them—they turned around. Shepard looked back in confusion until he saw them attack the injured one that had been chasing him, claws and teeth tearing their broken comrade to shreds in moments. He snapped his attention back in front of him, idly thanking Mother Nature for her standard practices of Survival of the Fitest.

Apparently she wasn't keen on gratitude, something he learned when he felt the earth shift under him and the soil give way beneath his feet. He landed heavily on his back alongside Kargesh and slid down a sharp decline they hadn't seen seconds ago. They rolled and tumbled, bodies catching on sharp rocks and dead plants, smearing their clothes and skin with dirt. Shepard felt his head swim with the rapid twisting and changing of his line of sight, eyes alternatively seeing the trees above him to the grime under him.

Just when he was certain he'd vomit from dizziness, he felt his body finally reach the bottom of the hill and roll painfully to a stop. Kargesh landed heavily beside him, groaning and blinking at the dark.

Shepard got his hands under him, but once again felt the white-hot pain of his broken wrist flare. He collapsed back into the soil, vision swimming. Even with the adrenaline coursing through his blood and terror making his heart beat against his rib cage, he couldn't stay awake. Dimly, he watched the batarian get his feet, dusting himself off and clutching at his head, trying to stop the spinning that warped his vision.

Shepard let his head fall back into the dirt, hoping he'd be dead before he was eaten.


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19: Anchor**

"Aunt Kasumi!"

The small Japanese woman grinned, watching the even tinier five year-old launch herself into Kasumi's arms.

"Man, you're heavy!" she exclaimed amusedly, hefting the bowling ball of a child in her grasp and situating most of the weight on one hip. She looked up to see Tali smiling faintly at her in the hallway, and her expression sombered. Her friend didn't look too good.

"Hey Tali," she quipped, as if she didn't notice dark circles under the quarian's eyes or the mournful set to her face. Kasumi headed into the house, Sarika still in her arms and backpack on her shoulder. She had decided quickly that the best way to lighten the mood around here was to bring gifts.

"Kasumi," Tali replied with a forced smile. She motioned for the woman to head to the living room. "Come sit down. I'll take Sarika if you—"

"Nah, I'm okay. I've lugged around heavier loot before," She grinned down at her niece, who giggled at the thief's words.

They arrived at the living room and Kasumi plopped Sarika down on the couch. Wasting no time, she reached behind her and pulled the backpack off her shoulders, unzipping the large flap. Snaking a hand inside, she came up with a neatly wrapped present, making the little girl on the couch bounce in place.

"Presents!" Sarika exclaimed excitedly, eyes affixed to the colourfully-wrapped box with interest. "Can I open it?"

"Of course you can. I brought it for you." She handed the girl the green gift and watched her immediately pounce on it, small fingers ripping into the paper.

Kasumi looked over at Tali, seeing the woman eye her with amusement. "You really know how to become the favourite aunt."

The thief shrugged, happy to see her friend brighten, if only a little. "Figured you guys could do with some store-bought happiness."

"You went 'shopping'?" Tali asked doubtfully.

"Totally. I bought wrapping paper."

The quarian's lips twitched. "That's a start, at least."

"Mom, look!" Sarika had quickly destroyed the colourful paper, shreds of it littering the couch cushions and carpet. She unearthed her gift from the cardboard box, holding up what seemed to be a doll almost as large as her daughter.

Tali stepped a little closer, and Sarika turned the doll around so that its face could be seen. She stopped in her tracks when she saw what Kasumi had given her.

A Commander Shepard doll.

It was wearing the infamous N7 armour, geared up in a plush combat suit. Its limbs ended in round stubs, as if the manufacturer had thought hands and feet to be too troublesome to add on. Her eyes travelled up the doll to see her husband's face looking back at her, only far more wide and flat. His mouth was set in a goofy, militant frown, his "hair" was the familiar cropped brown—scar included—and his blue eyes looked too large for his face. Although the expression of the toy was rather gruesome, the fact that it was two feet tall and made out of stuffing took away from any possible scariness.

She didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

"It's dad!" the little girl said happily, squishing the doll to her chest. Tali looked over at Kasumi, seeing her tiny friend grinning from ear to ear.

"You..." she trailed off, not knowing what to say. The thief looked at her, features softening.

"I saw it when I was at a fair on Illium. Thought Sarika would need it a lot more than some random fan."

"I..." Tali looked back over at her daughter, who was already speaking excitedly to the doll, pointing over to where the toy bin sat in the living room. "Thank you," she whispered, not able to take her eyes off Sarika.

She felt a hand on her shoulder and saw Kasumi grinning at her. "I'm thirsty," she said. "Let's go get drinks and let this kid play with her new toy."

"Thanks auntie!" Sarika interjected, picking up on their conversation. She hopped off the couch and hugged the thief's leg, grinning.

"No problem kiddo," she replied, smoothing a hand over the girl's hair. "Now let me talk to your mom for a minute."

The tiny quarian nodded and zoomed back to the couch, eager to play with her new gift. Kasumi looked at her friend and gestured towards the kitchen, heading away from a giggling toddler.

When out of earshot in the next room, Tali hugged her friend fiercely, a small sob escaping her. "Thank you," she said again, feeling the thief return her embrace. "Thank you."

Kasumi pulled away, waving off her words. "It wasn't—"

"It was," Tali interrupted, eyes shining. She blew out a shaking breath, gaze flicking over to the living room doorway before looking back at the thief. "Sarika... she isn't doing well. She's having nightmares about John—" she choked on his name, but continued. "And... and I can see... what it's doing to her. She's sad, she..." She trailed off for a moment. "She's five years old, she shouldn't be worrying about her father coming home or her mother being unhappy—" Tali shook her head, a few tears escaping her eyes. "She does things for me all the time," she whispered, barely audible. "Picks flowers for me and draws pictures and... she just wants me to be happy. To smile and, and..." She looked at the floor, hugging her arms around herself. "He _needs_ to come home," she said forcefully. "He needs to."

Kasumi watched her friend struggle to form words, chest clenching. Anger bubbled up when she thought of what was happening to Tali and Sarika. Why hadn't Shep just refused Hackett? The bastard had retired, hung up his guns and committed himself to his family. Until Duty called, that is.

"Thank you," Tali repeated again. "She needed him. Needed... something of him."

"If I find a life-sized one I'll let you know," Kasumi replied, and saw her friend snort into her hand, humour releasing some of the tension in her body.

"Now _that _might be pushing it a little." She shook her head. "Imagine John seeing both of us dragging around stuffed toys of him? He'd think we went crazy."

Kasumi laughed with the woman for a moment, glad to see her friend smiling. Hoping to keep the mood light and help this place stay brighter, she continued conversation as if they had no worries in the world.

"I wasn't lying when I said I was thirsty. Lugging that thing here was _not _easy."

* * *

He was dying.

Shepard could feel it. A stabbing pain throbbed behind his eyes, making light the most agonising thing to ever greet his vision. His throat was on fire, and he suspected that speech would be a luxury he was going to miss for a while. Breathing was a monumental task with the fluid filling his lungs and the heaviness in his chest. His entire body felt like one massive bruise.

But he could have withstood all of that if it weren't for the fire burning across his skin. It lingered in the fiber of every muscle, even seeping down into his bones. He'd gotten a fever at some point during the night, and now it was practically boiling the blood in his veins.

Kargesh tapped him with his boot, but at this point Shepard hardly gave it any notice. He closed his eyes again and curled inwards, shivering. He could feel the goosebumps running across his skin even as he burned with fever. A weak cough passed through his lips and his whole body convulsed, tensing at the pain.

He heard a sigh above him, and a sallow hand set something down next to his face. It was bright yellow, and the vaguely spherical shape was covered in bumpy ridges. He blinked, confused as to what was sitting in front of him.

"Drink," Kargesh muttered, walking out of view a moment later. Shepard sighed, shifting his body and awkwardly getting his hands under him. He pushed and was still somehow surprised that he didn't possess the strength to lift himself off the ground. He moaned weakly at the pain in his wrist, remembering too late about his injury and pressing his cheek into the dirt.

He was likely the most pitiful sight to behold, but he didn't give a damn. A smaller, more child-like part of him ached fiercely for the comforting touch of his wife, knowing she'd do anything in her power to help him get well. He certainly wouldn't get it from the batarian standing ten feet away from him, nor would he be able to swallow his pride enough to beg for it. At this point, living or dying seemed all rather trivial.

He closed his eyes, trying to block out the morning sun. He'd indulge in self-pity for a moment and wish for Tali—

Morning sun? His eyes snapped open and he looked at his surroundings as best he could with half his face in the dirt. It was morning. And he hadn't been eaten.

He rolled painfully onto his back and looked down at himself, sighing in disappointment when he saw that none of his limbs had been gnawed off. He'd hoped to quietly bleed out during the night and finally be off of this horrible planet.

"Why—" His throat constricted in pain and he smoothed his good hand over his neck, groaning. So he could talk after all. It just hurt like a bitch when he did.

He swallowed, throat agonisingly dry. He needed—

"I told you to drink that, idiot." Kargesh said, sounding annoyed. He gestured to the yellow ball next to Shepard, who turned his head to look at it again.

Shepard got his good hand under him and tried once more, straining the muscles in his arm and pushing upwards. He could get himself somewhat off of the ground, and with the help of his legs got himself into a position where he could collapse against a nearby tree, which he did so promptly. He huffed out a laboured breath, already exhausted from sitting up. His head swam at the movement and he felt nauseated. He closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep, rattling breath, trying to calm the pounding behind his eyes.

When the threat of vomiting wasn't quite so strong, he opened his eyes once more and looked at the large yellow fruit on the ground. The top had been cut off, and he grabbed at it weakly, pulling it closer to see what it was.

It was about the size of a large grapefruit, but was covered in odd ridges and bumps. The outside skin was rubbery and thick, but peering into the innards of it through the sliced-off top, it was near-hollow and squishy. Instead of fruit flesh, it was filled with oddly tinted water, like an alien fruit juice.

"It grows entirely in the ground, so the water inside has no electric current in it," Kargesh spoke up, and Shepard looked at him. He eyed the batarian for a moment before realising where they were.

He was sitting not twenty feet away from a small lake, which was ringed heavily with trees. The water looked still and peaceful, with large insects flitting just above the lake and a plethora of leafy flowers and greens sprouting above the top of the water. It was as if the horrors of the night had been wholly forgotten—the sun's light had cleansed the memory of the fauna, who were all now happily existing in their garden habitat.

The sight of water made his throat ache painfully for relief, and he looked back down to the fruit he held in his palm. He tossed his head back and took a swig, the parched skin of his mouth instantly soothed. The taste was foreign and something he couldn't quite place; it was initially sweet, but left a faintly bitter aftertaste, as if he was drinking sugary soap water.

It was the most delicious thing he'd ever tasted.

He downed the contents of the fruit in seconds, then sighed when he found it empty. It had helped, though; the liquid had soothed some of the fire in his throat and his tongue didn't taste so much like sand paper anymore.

He looked over at Kargesh once more, who was using the N7 knife to dig up the dirt around the lake. He had about a half dozen of those yellow fruits piled beside him and was currently digging out number seven.

Shepard opened his mouth to ask why they couldn't drink from the lake when his brain suddenly registered the batarian's earlier comment. They were sitting next to a body of water, more than capable of filling both men's bellies with cool liquid, and they couldn't drink a drop of it. He wondered if this place had been specifically terraformed to make any visitors insane with temptation—food and water aplenty surrounded them, yet were all deadly the moment it touched one's lips. Eden, indeed.

"Why... why aren't we—dead?" Shepard forced out, voice barely reaching a raspy whisper. His throat burned and he swallowed painfully, eyeing the fruit beside Kargesh wishfully.

The batarian laughed quietly, not looking up from his task. "You chose what was possibly the best spot to faint in this entire jungle."

Shepard sighed, closing his eyes. "I don't even know why I bother asking," he muttered, coughing again. The pounding in his head wasn't going away; he needed a gallon of water and a good night's sleep. And to not have a sinus infection.

There was a soft thud near him and something rolled into his leg. He looked down to see another fruit and immediately grabbed it. Pressing a finger nail into the leathery skin of its outer shell, he felt a drop of moisture leak onto his knuckle. Without the convenience of a precise weapon at hand—the bone-axe clipped to his belt would turn the fruit into pulp with one swing—and not wanting to ask Kargesh for the knife since he knew what the response would be, he resorted to using the dulled edge of a fingernail.

Poking his finger deep into the flesh of the fruit, he felt the digit pierce through the tough skin and reach the hollowed, watery centre. Extracting his hand, he brought the fruit to his lips and began drinking once more, the bittersweet taste of the juice soothing the burning that was inside his mouth and ran down his throat.

He watched Kargesh do the same, quickly inhaling the fruit's contents and tossing the empty shell aside when he was finished. They both drank until there was one left, which the batarian hooked onto his belt for later use.

Kargesh stood up, surveying the area. "We should get moving. We're already losing daylight—"

A hoarse laugh interrupted his sentence, and the batarian looked over at Shepard, who was shaking his head. "I can barely sit up, let alone hike through this." He gestured around him.

The batarian clenched his jaw, glaring at the commander. "We need—"

"I know—" A cough. "I know where we need to go. But I can't." He closed his eyes, feeling his chest rattle with laboured breath. "I don't know why it... makes a difference where I die. I'm dead no matter where—where we go." He winced at the pain in his throat. Talking was quickly destroying any positive effects the juice had had on his tongue.

Kargesh sighed. "Well since you've finally figured that out, at least die with an actual purpose instead of just sitting here."

Shepard laughed weakly. "I'm not moving." Another shiver was coming on and he curled inwards, trying to conserve body heat. He could feel the burning fever cover his skin, but he was freezing. His body was beginning to shake, movements that were jarring his broken wrist.

He laughed again, forcing it out of a dry throat. "Just... just leave me here. Go find your damn comm facility and—" His body convulsed as a cough left his lips, and he wiped at his mouth. "... and pick me up when you call your friends."

Kargesh looked to be seriously considering it. Four black eyes darted towards the south, judging odds and variables. Looking back at Shepard, broken and sick and curled up against a tree, a smile curved his lips. "Not twenty four hours ago you wanted nothing more than to stay alive."

"And I realised twenty four hours ago that I'm fucked." He moaned at the pain when another cough forced out of him, gritting his teeth. "I won't see my wife or child again. My government's sold me out for politics, and my friends will only get caught in the middle if I ask for help. I'm fucked," he repeated. "Might as well get it over with now." Shepard closed his eyes, the light making the pain in his head unbearable.

He pushed away thoughts of his situation and instead concentrated on the small happiness this circumstance would afford him. He'd be dead soon, away from all of this. He'd watch over his family until they joined him, and then he'd be at peace. It was a comforting thought, one that made the pain more bearable, more easily ignored.

He felt his body relax against the tree, and he felt sleep creeping in. He idly heard the batarian walk away, and was happy Kargesh no longer wanted to talk. He slowly sunk into dreams with pleasant images playing in his mind, ones of Tali bathed in Tikkun's light as she lay in bed with him, or of Sarika playing in the dirt outside. His good hand reached up, touching the dog tags at his neck. The simple necklace also housed his wedding band, along with a small, smooth stone, a copy of Sarika's birthstone given to him on the day of her adoption.

He fell asleep with his family wrapped up in his palm, a comforting pressure on his skin.

* * *

Tiny pockets of light filtered through his closed eyelids, small white dots lighting up the skin with a veiny pink colour. He squinted, trying to dispel the unpleasant sight. When that did nothing, he rolled onto his side, groaning weakly.

He came to the unfortunate realisation that he was still alive when he felt the steady beat of his heart beneath his chest. And he still felt like microwaved shit.

A cough escaped his lips, making his body tense up. He groaned again, also realising that he was fully lying down now. Shepard opened his eyes slowly, peeking through narrowed lashes.

There was something grey in front of his face. It was long and thin, stretching up beyond his field of vision. It was blurry and indistinct so close to his eyes, and he looked up.

It was a bone. A very large bone. About the width of his arm and roughly twice as long. It was staked into the ground, a knobbed end standing proudly in the air. There was another one, half the first one's size, at his feet. And they were holding up vines above his head.

_What the fuck?_ Shepard rolled onto his back, trying to get a better view. Large, leafy foliage was weaved into a rough, uneven blanket above his head, and there was another set of those large bones to his left, creating a crude tent over him. He didn't think he'd be able to stand up straight in it, but it was fairly large and the length of it stretched from his head to his feet.

He sat up, coughing. It looked to be almost sunset; the bright orb of the planet's sun was sitting at a low angle, barely visible above the tall trees of the jungle. Yet the setting sun, however disturbing it might be, was not the focus of his attention.

Someone had been working. In addition to his macabre tent, he could see large cuts of meat strung up high between two trees, the better to keep animals away. Fruit was piled up against another tree, their bright colours a pleasant rainbow against dull bark. There was also an additional tent, looking much like his but lower to the ground; one would only be able to kneel inside it.

There was also a very large, dead animal, tossed carelessly away near the lake. It had been butchered; all of its legs had been cut off, the belly opened and emptied of entrails, and the head on it was missing, as well as large chunks of meat from its flanks. He couldn't even begin to guess what the hell the thing had looked like when it was alive, but judging by how large its torso was, it had likely been the size of a buffalo or bigger.

He finally found Kargesh amongst there lakeside camp, who was stripping bark from branches and beginning to construct a fire pit. Another cough made the man look up from his task for a moment, eyeing Shepard. Seeing that he had woken up, he laughed softly and turned his attention back to his cutting.

"I see you're finally awake," the batarian called. Shepard grunted, shifting himself out of the crude structure above him and attempting to get to his feet. He stumbled and almost fell face-first into the mud, but got his good hand steadied under him and finally got into a straight up standing position.

He let out a cough, grabbing at his head. It was pounding, brain feeling like it was about to burst out of his skull at any moment. He squinted in the dying light of the sun, clumsily heading towards Kargesh.

"How... how long was I asleep?" he asked, rubbing a hand across his face.

"About thirteen hours," the batarian replied, eyes flicking up to look at the sun for a moment. He tossed away a bare branch, the leftover organic wiring limp and dark with no connection to a power source.

Shepard's brows shot up in surprise, and he regretted doing so when his eyes burned at the movement. "I see," he said dumbly, looking around. "You did all this in—" He coughed. "In thirteen hours?"

"More or less that," was all Kargesh said.

Shepard sighed. "Well, why?"

"Because we're staying here until you stop collapsing every five minutes." Kargesh waved the knife over to a small pile of food. "That's yours."

Shepard looked over to where the knife had pointed, seeing a chunk of cooked meat stuck onto a wooden stake, away from bugs, and a few small fruits lying next to it. He walked over and looked down at his meal, seeing the odd yellow grapefruit acting as his drink. Sitting down, he picked up a large berry and began peeling away the skin.

"What about those... things?" he asked, looking over to the batarian. "That attacked us last night?"

"They'll come back," Kargesh said calmly. "Just not after us."

"Why?"

"You'll see when the sun goes down."

Shepard glared at him. "Are you physically unable to answer straightforward questions or something?"

Kargesh laughed. "Are you unable to _stop _asking questions for five minutes?"

"That's what I thought," Shepard muttered, opening up the fruit in his palm and beginning to eat. It was sour and a dark red, the juice looking almost like blood as it ran down his fingers. He quickly finished it off, opening up the other assortment of odd flora and downing their insides. The unique flavours all intermingled on his tongue, sweet and sour and tangy alike.

When he'd consumed the fruit, he turned his attention to the large steak Kargesh had given him. The dark grey meat looked rather unappetising, but it smelled smoky and was making his mouth water.

He took it off of the stake in the ground and realised that it was a rib - the bone was soft and pliable, like squishy cartilage. He gingerly brought it to his lips and took a small bite, testing the taste of it on his tongue.

"Ugh," he grunted, mouth twisting in digust. "Does everything on this planet taste like burnt—" He saw Kargesh's lips tug up into a grin and he bit his tongue. "Never mind."

Sighing, he put the rib on the ground, frowning down at it. He'd always loved steak and ribs, but... what was in front of him suddenly made him think being a vegetarian for the time being might be the best course of action.

Not wanting to engage in conversation with the batarian, he turned his gaze towards the lake, trying to appreciate the peaceful sight before him. He wanted desperately to jump in—he was filthy from all of the trials they'd faced on the planet, and even before from the ship where he'd been trapped in the cell.

He looked down at his wrists, examining both the broken and good one. The scabs from his irons were a dark crimson, and he figured they might even scar—the cuts went deep into his flesh.

Not that he'd live long enough to find out.

"The Hegemony," he spoke up, ignoring Kargesh's earlier comments about his constant questions. "They'll back down when I'm executed?"

The batarian looked surprised at the calm way he'd brought it up, but shrugged. "It's not really the Hegemony you need to be concerned about, but yes. We'll back down."

"You're lying," Shepard replied, looking levelly at Kargesh.

He looked impressed for a moment before anger flared in his black eyes. "Then why'd you ask if you knew I would?"

"I didn't." Shepard rubbed a hand across his face. "So really, me dying on Kar'shan is pointless, isn't it? If it does nothing to resolve this?" He laughed bitterly. "I could die right now and it wouldn't really matter, would it?"

Kargesh opened his mouth to argue, but for once found himself speechless. He'd just lost his bargaining chip with Shepard, and the bastard knew it.

Another hoarse laugh escaped the man. "Maybe I will jump in the lake. Or have you gut me, since you seem so keen on doing so anyway." He looked out at the water, resting his forearms on his knees. "Be easier on Tali, if I die here." He shook his head, but Kargesh got the feeling the commander was no longer speaking to him. "What a funeral that'll be. My..." Shepard swallowed, voice sounding strained. "Sarika'll visit my grave before she even understands what death means."

"I have no idea what the fuck you're complaining about," Kargesh muttered after a moment, rage beginning to build in his chest.

Shepard's head snapped over to him, eyes bright with surprise and anger. "What?"

"You have the easy part—you die. No more of any of this," He waved a hand up to the sky. "You don't have to live on for someone or take care of anybody. If anything you should be grateful."

_"What?"_ Shepard repeated incredulously, eyes wide. "You're saying I'm _lucky?_ You want to take a look at where we are?"

"I know damn well where we are," he growled, glaring back at the commander.

"Then wh—"

_"You've still got a family!"_ Kargesh boomed, shooting to his feet. "You've got a lovely wife and daughter, tucked away inside a big house, wanting for nothing! They're far away from danger! No mercs, no war, no _asteroids,"_ he snarled. Shepard's eyes had gone wide at his words, and the dumbfounded look on his face made Kargesh even angrier.

"The entire fucking galaxy falls at your feet for your _sacrifices,"_ he spat acidly. "You're _wondrous_ bravery! No one wants to remember anything bad their lovely hero has done! You're a fucking god!"

His lips pulled back in a snarl, and he felt the air begin to shiver around him, distorted by a telltale blue. "... And now," he said quietly, losing steam. "You sit there and complain to me about luck." A poisonous laugh escaped him. "Fuck you, Shepard. Go lose everything you ever had and then see if I'll let you cry on my shoulder."

* * *

To say it was a tense evening would have been a spectacular understatement.

It was even more quiet than it had been the previous night—Kargesh had disappeared for some time after he'd exploded, leaving Shepard to stare dumbly out at the lake, slowly absorbing what the batarian had said.

Even years after the Alpha Relay incident, it still pained him as much as it did the day it happened. All those lives lost, all that blood... He'd graciously accepted the punishment the Alliance had given him, even to some degree angry that it had not been harsher—he was tired of hearing praises and having people pat him on the back, congratulating him on what a great human being he truly was for making such sacrifices. He'd wanted to be punished, to be yelled at and told he was a horrible person. It would've made the acceptance of his decisions that much easier.

But now, now it cut him even deeper. It was more personal. A part of him knew that had he not caused the death of Kargesh's family, he'd not be here.

But that left him with what? Ignoring the Reapers for the sake of a few extra nights of sleep and a sound conscience? Aritoht would have been destroyed regardless if Shepard had acted on orders or not—they were damned either way.

It was a position he was quite familiar with by now.

He'd mulled over such conflicted musings as the sun began to set, no longer even caring if those creatures showed up again. It would be a mercy at this point.

Yet they never came. It was full night, and he hadn't seen a single one. He could certainly hear them; shrieks and howls filled the jungle, echoing in the trees and chilling his blood.

But the lake stopped them. Nature had found a way to preserve itself against something otherwise unstoppable; with light.

The small clearing was filled with bioluminescence, the water shining a vibrant green-blue. Moss and coral covered every inch of the lakebed, every underwater plant, even clinging to the fins of fish. And it was all glowing.

It lit up the night. Underwater creatures spotted with moss darted around, zig-zagging bright lines in the water. Bugs flew across the surface, disturbing the water and splashing up bright dots of light.

And animals were everywhere. Rubbery, alien ones that swam in the lake, unharmed by its deadly current. Large, hairy ones lie sleeping in packs on the shore, grateful for this haven. Slim, long ones swung through the trees ringing the lake, hooting and laughing at the Ohk'nautah that lurked just beyond the light.

Most kept their distance from Shepard, but he was perfectly fine with that. In fact, none of these animals attacked one another; there had to be over two dozen species of fauna, and they all stayed out of each other's way. Not making friends but also not making enemies. It was the Switzerland of the Animal Kingdom.

Kargesh was also back by this time, yet he stayed far away from Shepard as well. He stood by the lake's edge, staring out at the glowing water. The commander also sat at the edge, although they were a fair distance apart.

The batarian hadn't spoken a single word to him, hadn't even looked in his direction. Shepard was hardly looking for a friend in the man, but he wondered if Kargesh finally would kill him after all.

He sighed, resting his arms on his knees, idly wishing for alcohol. Even a cigarette would do. Something to numb his senses or calm his nerves.

And without any of those available to him, he did the next best thing. Reaching into the front of his shirt, he once more took out his dog tags and studied them in the glowing night.

He ran a thumb over Sarika's stone, feeling the faint indentations of her name etched into it, written in Khelish. He wondered what she'd think of this place. Shepard smiled, knowing just what her response to seeing the glowing lake would be.

"Can I go in?" he whispered to himself, lips tugging up at the corners, though he felt them wobble. His eyes stung at the thought of his family, and felt bitterness follow when he remembered Kargesh's earlier words. At least he still had a family to remember.

He blew out a shaky breath, swallowing. He hated that he couldn't think of them without feeling guilty inside, but he figured he deserved it.

A cough suddenly rattled in his chest, and he pulled his legs in closer to his body. The fever hadn't left, and the chill of the night was taking its toll. The meal and rest had helped, enough that he was out of immediate danger of dying at the moment, but it wouldn't last.

He idly slipped his wedding band onto his finger as he watched the plethora of animals settle in for the night, huddling close together for warmth and protection. Shepard looked down at his hand, studying his ring. It was a simple silver band, a small green stone set into it. Much like his father's wedding ring.

"What is your wife like?" Kargesh asked quietly behind him, and Shepard jumped, turning. The batarian was standing not a foot away from him, watching him play with his tags over his shoulder. He hadn't even heard the man move.

"Uh..." he trailed off, searching for a reply. Kargesh walked around him and sat down, a little ways away from him. He realised that the batarian's question had been a serious one, and that he was expecting an answer.

Shepard didn't want to speak of Tali in front of him, but he at least owed Kargesh that much. "She..." he began, shaking his head faintly. "God, I... I don't even know where to begin." He laughed faintly. "Woman's stubborn as all hell, for one thing. And she'll damn well tell me if she's angry with me." His eyes flicked around the dimly lit landscape before him, searching for more words. "She's a good mother. Probably the reason Sarika isn't a total ball of insanity." Shepard huffed out a breath, shrugging. "Lord, Tali's... she's intelligent and strong and... she's something else, that woman."

He looked over at Kargesh, who only nodded silently at his words. Shepard's brows drew together. "Why?"

The batarian looked at him, eyes startlingly calm. He was quiet for a long moment, choosing his words carefully.

"Because... I wanted to remember what that felt like." he said finally, looking at Shepard. "Thank you."

* * *

"Keep the water in the bathtub!"

Her daughter sloshed a few more cups of bubbly bath water out of the tub before Tali glared at her warningly.

"I mean it, Sarika."

She giggled, smiling up at her through shampoo and wet hair. She scooped up a tiny mountain of bubbles beside her and brought them up to her mouth. Puffing her cheeks, she blew out a large breath and sent the bubbles flying towards her mother.

She screeched with laughter when they landed on Tali's nose and chin, giggles filling the tiny bathroom. "You're Santa Claus, mama!"

Tali looked down, seeing her jaw covered in frothy soap, mimicking the facial hair of some famous human Shepard seemed keen on teaching their daughter about.

Tali shied away from any thoughts of her husband for now. She was going to have a fun time with her daughter for an hour and think of nothing else. There was always time later when she was alone.

She grinned at Sarika and tossed any pretense of serious bath time out the window, dunking a hand in the warm water and sloshing bubbles onto her daughter's hair. She squealed at the feeling of water running down her back and kicked her legs up, sending soap and water flying everywhere.

It sprayed everywhere, soaking Tali's shirt and the towel she was kneeling on, as well as every other possible cloth item in their bathroom. Sarika seemed to have lost her mind; she was giggling hysterically and lying on her back in the tub, arms and legs thrashing and effectively emptying most of the bath water from its porcelain container.

Tali opened her mouth to tell her daughter to settle down, but watching the small, naked five year-old squealing in their upstairs bathroom was too funny for her to stop her. Instead, she decided to join in, collapsing in a ball and laughing at the sight, the high-pitched sound of Sarika's voice only adding to the hilarity.

After the wave of hysterics had passed, Tali actually managed to finally stop the giggling chaos that was her daughter and give her a proper wash, ending with her draining what water was left out of the bathtub and wrapping Sarika up in a fluffy towel.

It was dark by the time they had finished—Kasumi had stayed for most of the day, playing with Sarika and swapping lighthearted conversation with Tali. She had known the reason for the thief's visit, and was more grateful than words could say; Sarika had brightened considerably, regaining some of her normal, upbeat attitude that had slowly been withering away with the absence of her father.

And now with Kasumi gone, Tali had made her daughter clean up after the day's events, which had mainly included jumping around outside, playing hide-and-seek with her cloaked aunt.

The labour-intensive wash, coupled with her active day, had left Sarika rather droopy-eyed, and Tali had to lead her into the tiny quarian's bedroom, sitting her down on her bed and walking over to her dresser, rummaging through the pajamas she had.

Sarika yawned and flopped onto the mattress, watching her mother look through her clothes. Seeing the doll Kasumi had bought resting beside her head, she grabbed it and pulled it close, smiling.

"Are you happy, mama?" Sarika asked quietly, yawning again.

Tali froze, the question taking her by complete surprise. She looked over at her daughter, seeing the tiny girl curled up on her bed in a white towel, hugging the large stuffed toy close to her chest. The static, wide eyes of the doll stared back at her, as if waiting for the answer.

"I..." She trailed off, wondering what the answer was herself. She blew out a breath and walked back over to her daughter, who sat up when Tali knelt beside the bed, still not letting go of the toy.

Her mother's eyes flicked around the room, looking like she was searching for something. Her mouth opened a few times but no sound came out. When Sarika was about to ask the question again, however, her mom finally spoke up.

"I'm happy when you're happy," Tali whispered, touching her daughter's face. "You make me happy."

Sarika nodded, seemingly pleased with the answer. "That's good. I don't like it when you're sad."

Tali eyes stung and she pulled her daughter close, rocking gently. "I love you," she murmured, words barely heard in the quiet room.

"I..." A large yawn interrupted Sarika's reply. "I love you too." She pulled away, but frowned when she saw wet tracks travelling down Tali's cheeks. "Don't cry! You're supposed to be happy!"

Her mother laughed, smiling up at her. "I am happy. I'm crying because I'm happy."

Her daughter's face scrunched in confusion. "That makes no sense."

Tali laughed again, standing up from her kneeling position. "It will when you're older." She stretched, seeing Sarika's eyes already drooping once more. "Stay awake until I find some PJs. You can go to sleep after." Quickly heading over to the girl's dresser, she pulled out a pajama set and unfolded them. Walking back over to the bed, she got Sarika to stand up and unwound the towel from her tiny frame. Helping her step into the green shorts and pull on the tank top, she picked her half-sleeping daughter up in her arms and tucked her into bed.

"Good night, Sarika." Tali whispered, kissing her daughter's hair and flicking off the overhead light. The room dimmed and was now only lit with a small nightlight, which was situated on the wall opposite the girl's bed.

"Good night... mama," Sarika yawned back, already beginning to fall asleep. She watched her mom head for the hallway, closing her bedroom door until it was only open a crack.

Grabbing the doll and turning him to face her, she smiled down at her father's stitched features. "Good night daddy," she whispered to him, kissing the plush head and burying her face into the fabric armour of his chest. "I love you."


End file.
